Love Letters Addressed to Anonymous
by dandelion-heart
Summary: A stupid boy, a gentle girl, and a life with the happiest kinds of pain - would you read their story?
1. no return address,,,67

{NO RETURN ADDRESS}

_a story of their bond from a simple event_

{CONDOLENCES & CONSOLATIONS}

_a story of their bond amidst pain and hurt_

{REGULAR CORRESPONDENCE}

_a story of their bond in alternate universe arcs_

{MISCELLANEOUS NOTES}

_a story of their bond from the eyes of another_

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love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.70.** ([ 67% ])

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"How does someone get that?" he gestured in resignation towards her paper covered in neat, small block handwriting and with a red, circled 98% on the corner.

"By- and this is just a wild guess- studying?" Téa smiled as he groaned. Tristan shook his head at his own score, while Yugi quietly slipped the paper into his backpack. A moment later Joey jolted up, his face set with determination, his eyes fixed on a startled Téa.

"Tutor me?" He asked, his eyes glowing as if he had been struck with a divine inspiration. Tristan said nothing, drumming his fingers on the desk, his eyebrows rising at Yugi's muffled attempts at laughter.

"Tutor?" Téa asked, all traces of good humor lost as she narrowed her eyes. "Do you know what 'tutor' means, Joey?"

"Of course I do," he replied , exasperated, looking at the two other boys with a clear expression of 'she-clearly-doesn't-get-it.' "You help me study and I get that." He pointed towards her grade again, biting his lip and brushing the tousled blond hair from his forehead.

Her lips twitched but she stood, arms akimbo, still frowning. "Good job! Because that _is_ what tutor means! It doesn't mean raiding my fridge or playing with my cat or staring at my magazines" - Tristan sat up at this with a triumphant grin on his face- "or going on the computer to chat with- Tristan!"

Both boys were in a tussle now, the few remaining students in the room laughing quietly as they watched Tristan, gloating over this new revelation, shove a furious Joey against a desk.

Téa sighed, and sat back down, glancing at Yugi. "What exactly did he get?"

Yugi smiled weakly. "You should help him you know. You're the only one of us good enough in English to tutor and you have the patience." She snorted but smiled as he nodded his head in reassurance.

"I suppose," she said softly, watching Joey escape a headlock. "But, just to make sure…"

She flipped over the paper, the 67% gleaming in scarlet alongside a few remarks from the teacher. Yugi watched her apprehensively and started when she turned with a small laugh.

"Does he really need a tutor? He seems to be improving on his own!"

Yugi laughed. "Well compared to that 52% last week…I guess!"

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_A/N:_

_I decided that while these drabbles are all centered around Joey and Tea, the original 4 are so sweet, they just had to be included. So though this first one isn't very shippy, I still loved writing how these 4 interact...aren't they adorable? :)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	2. condolences&consolations,,,Drive

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.9.** ([ Drive ])

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He picked her up at 5 and said nothing as she climbed in, her eyes slightly red, fingers tightly clutching her purse.

They were a few minutes away from her house when she asked him to stop the car and he pulled alongside a sidewalk.

She took a long, shaking breath and placed her head on his shoulder. He still didn't say anything but he wondered if she was comfortable and after a moment of pronounced silence, let his head tilt onto hers.

"You aren't going to say, 'there's always next year?'" She sniffed, brushing a hand across her nose.

"I figured you'd probably hate me for that," he confessed, smiling when he felt her giggle against him quietly. "And I'm practicing self-restraint."

"From?"

"From being me." He said simply and she laughed, clearly and loudly this time, invisible chimes echoing in his ears even when her voice faded away.

"Can we pick them up, too?"

"Can't. Yugi's gotten shop duty for some special sale today and Tristan-"

"Isn't picking up his phone, of course," Téa nodded and Joey looked down at her.

"We should really tell him to stop putting it on silent," he whispered, watching her eyes close, her hair falling over her tear-streaked cheek.

On an impulse, he pressed his lips to her head, regret vanishing as she leaned into him.

"Then drive me anywhere you like."

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_A/N:_

_If you were wondering, Téa's submission for a dance studio was rejected, hence her disappointment. I had almost forgotten how instrumental dance is to her character and here, probably for the first time in her life, Joey was the first person to comfort her. I somehow always saw Yugi or her parents or even the random girlfriend to be the first to hear since Joey is so carefree. But we all know he'd never let her down in the shoulder-to-cry-on department :)_

_This does make me wonder what kind of car he drives..._

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	3. condolences&consolations,,,Pen and Paper

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.81. **([ Pen and Paper ])

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It had only been a few weeks but for her, it felt as if months had passed… every hour a day…every second a minute of its own.

Her internet was down. Her computer was rebooting from a recent virus attack. Her new college schedule- along with work and dance rehearsals- was giving her little to no time to call the people she constantly dreamed about with eyes both open and closed. And they simply would not leave her alone.

But when she did find the spare time to make a call, she almost always spent the minutes listening to the phone ring before the voicemail asked to leave a message and, as she hung up, the usual sigh escaped her before she could summon up the false optimism that there was always next time.

She stared at her full cup of coffee. It was getting cold in the cafe, and she shivered inside her coat but she still didn't drink. It would make her drowsy and she had to think.

Her cell phone beeped and a text message alert danced across the square screen. She still received texts but scrolling down lines of abbreviated phrases and emoticons made her realize just how far away she was from them. She'd stare at the names on her contacts list and whisper them aloud when the only light in her dorm room came from the blue cell phone screen she hid under the covers so her roommate wouldn't complain.

She had tried once, only once before, but forgetting them was impossible.

They had taken 2 hours to say goodbye and towards the end, she was scared she would never leave the small group smiling sadly at her. They told her to call and to send emails and to go on her webcam as often as she could manage, and she promised she would try.

"Or write," Joey had offered, looking away as Yugi squeezed her hand farewell and Tristan pulled her towards him for another final hug. Serenity glanced towards her brother with an encouraging smile but he sighed and shook his head. There was another round of embracing and waving and Bakura tripped in his haste to deliver his parting gift and her fear began to overwhelm her when even Duke placed his hand on her head with a reassuring grin.

As she began to walk away, she saw Joey look up and speak quietly enough for her and her only to hear.

"Goodbye," they waved and blew kisses and smiled brighter than she had ever seen.

Amidst the chorus, she heard him say, "Write a letter if you want."

She blinked, pushed herself off the chair and went up to the counter to ask for a pen and paper.

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_A/N:_

_I felt like writing something where Joey unexpectedly solved Téa's problems without actually being there with her and this popped into my head._

_The one thing I like about this shot is the image of a shy, depressed Joey refusing to say good-bye. I imagine he is the least mature when having to say farewell x)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	4. no return address,,,Cat

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.23.** ([ Cat ])

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"What's his name?" Joey asked apprehensively, still standing on her doorstep, gazing down at the black and white ball of fur just a few inches away from his foot.

"Not sure yet," she yawned, blinking sleepily and waving at him to come in. "Got any suggestions?"

Joey didn't move.

After a few seconds, Téa backtracked, peering out of the kitchen, her eyes flickering from the kitten licking its paw to the lanky boy trying to lean casually against a coat-stand.

"Do you not like him?" Téa asked, astonished, laughing when Joey flinched as the little animal crept closer towards him.

"He's…cute."

"I never knew you were afraid of cats!"

Joey swallowed.

"Just a scruffy, cute little thing…" he trailed off, his eyes widening as round, pale blue orbs met his dark amber ones.

"Like you," Téa giggled, gasping in surprise when Joey yelped and leaped over her pet, grabbing her arms to pull her in front of him like a shield.

The kitten purred.

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_A/N:_

_The big, strong guys are always afraid of the smallest things x)_

_I was pleasantly surprised when I saw this word because it fits perfectly with the cat Téa mentions in '67%.' Of course, this shot comes before that one._

_And yay for kittens whose secret agendas bring people together! I like this kitten, he's smart :D_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	5. no return address,,,Rated

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.40.** ([ Rated ])

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This certainly wasn't supposed to happen.

In fact, this should have never happened in _his_ life. He was not prepared for this confrontation like Tristan was from countless interrogations by his uptight parents, nor was he ready to be intimidated to a degree only Yugi should have been familiar with.

No, this was something he wouldn't even wish on Duke, who stood quivering beside him, and Bakura…well, Bakura might have seen worse.

This was a nightmare he usually laughed at, having heard several variations from his male classmates on how their vengeful girlfriends found unspeakable ways to punish them for their disobedience.

But none of us have girlfriends, he had grinned every time, and they would all nod in relieved agreement- until they realized they were stupid to be even remotely happy about that misfortune.

And now here they were, stranded on the street as midnight drew near and their best girl friend stood in front of them, clutching five movie ticket stubs with slender fingers. How had he overlooked such sharp nails? And how had he never noticed that her eyes, those large blues, were capable of transforming into evil, sinister slits?

"So," she said quietly, drawing out the word with apparent disgust as she stared at the scraps of paper.

"So." He heard himself say, and felt a sickening wave of guilt wash over him as the guys turned to face him, silently horrified.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Enjoy the movie?" Her voice was low, soft and utterly terrifying. Bakura opened his mouth, his face twisted, before closing it hurriedly at Duke's glower.

"You have something to say, Bakura?"

All of them jumped, nervously wringing their hands, cracking knuckles, shuffling their sneakers with lips tightly pressed together. Joey prayed Bakura's conscience wouldn't damn the rest of them and glared as fiercely as he could at the back of his white head.

"N-n-no-no." He stammered, tearing his eyes away from hers to meet Yugi's, round and hypnotized with fear.

"It wasn't our fault Téa," Yugi whispered, glancing back at his shoes when she turned his way with a mingled expression of silent fury and cold disappointment. Joey felt the reserves of his hope for mercy slowly drain away. She wasn't forgiving Yugi. They were all screwed.

"We didn't really know what we were going to see-"

"But you stayed, didn't you?"

Duke raised a trembling hand and Téa silenced a nervous laugh from Tristan with a single scowl.

"We didn't want to waste money?"

A moment passed and Téa slouched, leaning against the stop sign, exhaling slowly. Joey closed his eyes, praying fervently. The boys were visibly shaking now, and Joey was wishing they had gone another way, another street. They shouldn't have planned to go to Tea's at all. Maybe, they should never have gone to see that wretched movie...

"Joey."

Her voice was no longer harsh or intimidating but conversational, sweet and slightly musical. On any other day, in any other hour, in any other place, he would have smiled subconsciously upon hearing that voice. Instead, he felt cold drops of sweat trickle down his temples when the group parted, leaving him in front of Tea, dead center in her line of sight, no path to take, no exit for him.

Téa held up the five movie tickets with a disarming smile.

"Can you tell me who bought these tickets?"

There was another second of unbearable silence. Joey considered his options.

There was really only one way out.

"We're sorry," he moaned, dropping to his knees in defeat. The boys stared at him blankly for one moment before falling down as well, echoing Joey's pained sigh. A quick glance shared amongst them erased any suspicions- no one would speak of this again.

"Sorry," they repeated over and over before Téa shushed them with a wave of her hand.

"I have decided."

"On what?" Joey said before he pinched his eyes shut in regret. He felt Tristan's fist punch his side and he fought the urge to return the hit.

"Your punishment is helping me clean my apartment. It's springtime, remember?" She smiled, almost innocently.

They looked up, their mouths open, faces pale in horror. They needed no better reminder of the atrocious incident than Duke's loud gulp- they had all feared the worst when he dove into that closet and not surfaced for two hours when they finally realized he was missing. Bakura was the only one who seemed taken aback, not knowing what hell he would be facing this time next week.

Téa shook her head, bit back a smile, and tossed the five pieces of paper onto the street. Before she turned away, she caught Joey's eye and winked.

If she had been any other girl, Joey would have cursed her out right then and there. But then again, it was Téa.

And he caught a glimpse of their tickets and grinned in spite of himself. '"Beach Nights in Cancun," rated NC-17' were printed on every one.

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_A/N:_

_Anyone who has read some of the Yu-Gi-Oh! manga (or knows how the boys were originally portrayed) know that they were all somewhat dirty-minded (even innocent little Yugi!) _

_So I decided to have fun with the idea: what if Téa found out about one of these perverted outings? _

_By the way, the punishment might seem odd but if you read Nayuki bunny-chan's "Frappucino," you'd understand :) It's semi-Devotionshipping but written extremely well, especially the interactions between Téa and Joey. Plus it has the humor I sorely lack and I couldn't resist referencing it :3_

_This is also probably the maximum length any one of these drabbles will reach. I had no idea it would be around 3 pages x)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	6. condolences&consolations,,,Stripes

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.49. **([ Stripes ])

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"Today is just a special day," he shrugged, opening the café's door for the three students stumbling behind him, exhausted from another draining school day.

"What special event is this that you haven't babbled to the school already about?" Tristan yawned, his hand held out for the group's money to order their usual milkshakes.

"Are you gonna tell us?" Tristan repeated when they slid into their favorite booth and he returned with their shakes, attempting to pocket the change before Téa kicked him under the table.

"Or is this a private thing?" Yugi asked, eyes slightly narrowed.

Joey smiled. Yugi knew how to say it so that everyone could understand.

"Yup," he stated simply and they shrugged in response.

-

_The gauze rolled around his bicep once, twice, thrice, four times before she cut and tied it into a firm knot, moving around him to re-apply balm to his blistered shoulder. Her right hand dipped into the white cream, her left handed him a new napkin to wipe the blood off his torn lip._

_He grunted by way of a thank-you and took another small sip of the lemon tea she had set beside him. He was setting down the cup when he sensed her reaching for the lump of rags on his stomach and nearly jumped away. She froze, waiting for him to lean back, and then she crouched, fingers moving over his abdomen to lift the crimson, drenched scraps, revealing a deep cut oozing black and red that made her eyes water and his fingers twitch._

"_Sorry," he whispered, the first words he had said since he had slumped against her door and pressed his palm to her doorbell with all the energy he could muster. She had opened the door with a shriek at his lopsided, bruised grin before taking his hand and pulling his arm over her shoulder to lead him into her kitchen._

"_You should be glad my parents aren't home," she responded, her voice hoarse._

"_Didn't see…their car."_

"_So that's how you knew to come in, huh? Otherwise you would've…stayed- killed yourself, out there…" her voice trembled with weak laughter, her hands shaking._

_He felt a drop of water on his cut, the salt irritating the skin and flesh and he exhaled through his teeth._

_It wasn't until another drop has sunk into his skin and he squirmed, looking up, that he suddenly realized she was crying. He stared wordlessly at her, feeling his throat tighten._

"_You don't look good in stripes," she whispered, her fingers trembling as she brushed away the tears, a streak of faded red left under her eye._

_He didn't say anything, realizing that there was nothing he could say to her at that moment. Any words would be meaningless now that the gravity of her plea had burrowed into hi, deeper than the salt water and the aching remorse he felt when she stood, tight-lipped, directing him to her bedroom. _

_They would go by the hospital tomorrow. The next day at school, no one would think more of it than another schoolyard fight. Yugi and Tristan would refuse to comment and the long gash on the side of his face and her stony stare. He knew better than to ever mention the incident to her again._

-

"You know I'm lucky I never landed in jail," he said aloud, wishing immediately that he hadn't when Téa's spoon clattered to the floor.

The boys didn't seem to take this remark as anything out of the ordinary.

"Oh no," Tristan grinned. "Is this special event some sort of prank you did, something illegal, and you didn't get caught?"

Yugi laughed as well, but neither seemed to notice that Téa sat quietly, staring at the melting vanilla in her glass, for the rest of their visit, speaking only to suggest they head home. She didn't look at Joey as she waved and headed down the twilight-lit street alongside Yugi. But he found a cupcake, slightly squashed, in his backpack at home that night and laughed silently to himself, because she had remembered somehow as well.

He fell back on his bed, his hand on his stomach. He could still feel the small sting of her single teardrop.

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_A/N:_

_I know it's always cliche that Joey gets battered and goes to someone for healing like Téa, Mai, Serenity- all the guys follow this pattern with some romantic figure in a story. But I always thought that it took some miracle to keep a rascal like Joey out of jail._

_And of course, that angel could really only be Téa :)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	7. condolences&consolations,,,Through Fire

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.89.** ([ Through the Fire ])

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Long, grey tendrils of smoke swirled around him and the smell of burnt flesh wormed its way through both her nostrils and slithered up into her head so the backs of her eyes burned and she felt the urge to cough and choke.

The heavy mist fell around her and she could hear screams and terrified calls into the dark and she knew that she had to find a bathroom because she needed to vomit, there was so much inside her and it was clawing from within to get out. She wanted to echo the desperate cries she heard around her but her mind, drowning in a foul, putrid fog was afraid, so afraid because she wanted him to answer her and…

_What if he doesn't answer me?_

And then he fell, slowly, so slowly that she felt her heart twist and pull its way to her throat and her lungs were expanding against her ribcage and she couldn't tolerate all this pain…

She closed her eyes but there was no relief and she could still see him, screaming for mercy, screaming in the flames, and she watched him through the fire, unable to save him…

How did she stay quiet for so long? How did she not know what he was suffering, what he was feeling, how was she hopeful that he would still be fine after the attack…? How was she smiling a moment before, thinking that he was fine, fine enough to turn around and smile and tell them, tell her he was joking and he was fine…

Her eyes opened and she started to cry.

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_A/N:_

_I remember how horrified I was when Joey fell after Marik's Egyptian God attack- when I rewatched the episode to catch Téa's reaction, I didn't realize how strong he was to have withstood such pain. But the clip that really stole my attention was when Atem yells out in desperation and you see Téa beside him, hiding her eyes with her hands._

_That, along with her reluctance to let him go after he awakens later, inspired me to write yet another angsty piece x)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	8. no return address,,,Last Hope

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.94.** ([ Last Hope ])

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"I guess that is- well no, not really. I mean he's kinda cute, and you've been friends for like, forever right?"

"It's not that."

She blew a strand of light brown hair from her cherry glossed lips.

"Why are you mad then?"

"Did he not ask right?"

She didn't answer. A collective gasp of horror rose from the group of girls leaning over her desk, their long eyelashes, overwhelmed by dark shadow and mascara, fluttering in sympathy. She casually observed the girls for a moment.

"Oh my god, what did he do?"

"What did he say?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and twirled her pencil around two slender fingers.

"He said, "Would you go to prom with me. I have no one else and I tried everyone I can think of. You're my last hope and I know you weren't planning to go anyways.""

The girls' hands pressed against their chests as they clicked their tongues in disapproval, their pale, powdered faces staring down at her like masks of sorrow. She looked away so she wouldn't laugh.

"You poor girl, so sorry we asked-"

"-wanted to know the real story-"

"-and so you said no, right?"

"Of course she did-"

"No I didn't."

They glanced at her, their blank expressions provoking a small giggle she managed to keep in.

"I'm his date."

She refused to let them see her blush.

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_A/N:_

_I'm pretty sure we all forget that the Yu-Gi-Oh! boys are really confused and hormonal teenagers oftentimes- prom is one thing I realized the guys would be baffled by._

_And for anyone wondering, 'wouldn't Téa go with Yugi as her date?' I'm thinking this takes place when things are still awkward between them after Atem has left._

_And of course the whole gang would go as a group- Joey just is the self-conscious one who needs a date and is utterly tactless when he finds one XD_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	9. regular correspondence,,,Do Not Disturb

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.63.** ([ Do Not Disturb ])

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Everything was going wrong.

"Last time I checked, there was no 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the janitors' closet door!" Téa snapped, her eyes flashing as she turned to answer him.

"Why were you looking in there anyways?"

He was scarlet now, breathing heavily, his clothes mussed and his hair falling over his narrowed eyes.

"Maybe because I could hear you doing- well, whatever you were doing to that girl in there!"

She ignored the fact that she sounded frenetic, winded, and completely harried. The cool, collected, composed Téa Gardner moments before had unexpectedly morphed into an embarrassed and retorting mess of confusion.

"And you knew it was me because-"

"Because she was practically moaning your name aloud for the world to hear!"

"Are you trying to just get back at me? What kinda crap are you trying to do?" She wondered for a moment if she sounded at all as furious as he did.

"Please! I'm not that petty! Though I deserve to get you back!"

"So you admit it!"

"I didn't do this on purpose!" She shrieked, gasping when he took a step back, slightly startled.

Both of them trembled in anger, standing on opposite ends of the school gate, the breeze whistling between the iron woven vines he slouched against. Twilight pink made her uniform shine and the lighter hues of blue illuminated the creases on his shirt. The golden shades fell upon their faces, creating a pearly glow about the red on their cheeks.

"You stay out of my business Gardner."

"Gladly." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and walked away, her lips pursed and face flushed.

"Don't deny you were jealous!"

She halted, eyes widening. She spun about, her mouth open in shock.

"_You_ just wanted to be in there with me." He smirked and took a few steps back, his eyes never straying from hers. She stared at him, transfixed before realizing that he was no longer smiling, but that he was simply discomfited, looking away after a moment, and mumbling something she couldn't make out. He raised his hand in a half-hearted salute and jogged around the corner.

Her heart did not slow its reckless beating until the next day when she paused by the closet door during break, hearing nothing inside. Would she have opened it if she heard those noises again?

"He's not in there," a voice came behind her. Téa's hands instantly met behind her back and she turned slowly, feeling slightly ashamed. A senior stood there, pouting as she leaned against the wall. "What did you do to him? We were just hooking up, you know, in case you were jealous."

"You don't seem to be very serious about it," Téa heard herself say, reprimanding herself immediately by pinching her palm.

The girl frowned, the sour expression on her face worsening. "Well duh. Who are you to judge? You an ex?"

Téa started to shake her head, stopped, and found the girl's bored, half-closed hazel eyes. She didn't know what for, but she asked herself why someone as vibrant and eager as _him_ would ever find a girl so detached…_attractive_. Disgust curled in her stomach and she was suddenly aware that she felt more revulsion towards this unknown girl than _him_, the boy who took back his jeer and exclamations and who attempted to wave goodbye.

"At least he's better off without you," she shrugged before walking away, completely taken aback by her own boldness and her audacity to defend Joey Wheeler.

Something was definitely wrong.

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_A/N:_

_The moment I saw this theme, I knew what scenario to do XD Of course, this takes place before the gang has come to be, and also before Téa and Joey are really on a first-name basis._

_Their exchange might seem slightly unclear right now as does Téa's sympathy, but I have 3 shots tied in with this that will be posted, so don't worry, there's a lot of backstory waiting to appear :)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	10. condolences&consolations,,,Breathe Again

love letters addressed to anonymous 

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**.10. **([ Breathe Again ])

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"He does need you."

But it was all so sudden, from the light seeping into the hollow gold of his eyes, to the familiar smile and oblivious stare he cast her way, unable to question the sudden sheen of water over her blues when Serenity embraced him with a joyful cry, expressing what the others could not.

And from the inexplicable urge to hug him (youre awake) she pushed down, to his sudden realization that he failed in restoring Mai's soul, to the hurried way he pulled on his sneakers and snapped at them to let him go, to the way he turned around in surprise when she finally had to say something.

She had seen him as broken bones and torn, bleeding limbs. That hurt was the kind she had covered for countless times when he and Tristan limped to her house with a small (sorry dont know what happened) excuse. She had felt her heart expunge all its blood, go rigid and shatter when Yugi fell to Pegasus and then again when he sank in water blue and cold and merciless despite her screams. She knew the hurt when they told her Tristan was stolen away- how her strength was extracted slowly and painfully, and she collapsed, stifling a sob. (every time you want to try and outdo each other)

Serenity asked her, "why can't I stop crying?" when they lay him on the bed, snapping on masks and injecting fluids through his ash-covered arms, with a small voice, choked and unsteady.

(but i cant cry)

Her insides had morphed into a leaden mass that twisted and bulged inside of her and her tongue was rolling back into her throat and the urge to throw up and swallow was simultaneous and her eyes burned when they saw the black scars on his torso but she didn't dare look away but no, she was not crying, not then, not ever.

That physical hurt, when they fought or they dueled, or the mental torture when they ignored her or left her behind or chose to protect her by hiding the small, dark, festering secrets inside them she tried her best to heal- she knew all those hurts and had learned to keep them close to her heart, so she would always remember. But she didn't cry because then they would only move away, further and further, farther away. (how can I keep up when I'm already running towards you as fast as I can)

And yet he smiled and she felt a tear fall from her wide eyes. When he looked around to greet them, fresh and alive and oh so prepared to leave once again, she wanted to scream, louder than Serenity's plea, louder than Tristan and Duke's yells of protest, louder than her own pathetic attempt. She had never known that the cold emptiness of loss could repeat in a matter of hours. When the boy blinked from his rest (all better now) cured from her silent prayers and then he tried to leap away (catch me if you can) she wondered why he would always run towards damage. (im gonna scare you until you break)

He wanted to go, and she knew he should, but he was brushing her aside so carelessly and he was forgetting that maybe she was still hurt too, and maybe a piece of her, sore and still not stitched up to stop the bleeding, had been revived when he inhaled and looked up and saved her sanity from diving into memory permanently- where he was always fine and with her.

She wanted to say she was sorry and she wanted to cry. (but youre finally free of tubes and masks) (i can see your eyes without having to stare at sunken eyelids) (cant you see im trying to hold back tears)

He still has to leave. And she understands, even though she wants to curse him and forget about the warm love and pride she always feels for his messy hair and crooked smile and calloused hands and loud promises. It envelops her and now she can't cry because he doesn't want her to. For a moment, she feels the selfish wave move through her, crashing loudly before it recedes away, far away, and she stands silent, listening to his voice filled with harsh tenderness and disloyal devotion to her need.

And then she suddenly understands and she means it when she nods in agreement and he starts to smile at her.

"Well don't just stand there! Go!"

He moves, turns away, running away, and she starts after him, tears spilling over the puffed eyelids, her fingers hastily wiping them away.

Her footsteps echo in the hall and she cannot see him anymore, he has run far ahead, and everything she fears is alive again- another unbearable moment when he falls towards death and she relives her inescapable her agony lurks, prepared to engulf the both of them.

But she will never cry, she can never cry.

Because he will always jump up, laugh, run off, able to breathe again, always moving off without looking behind him.

(are you always behind me)

And she knows she can't stop him. She knows he will always leave. But she can't help but chase him down because he will always ask "are you behind me?" and she can only answer "yes, I am never going to leave you."

(yes i always am)

* * *

_A/N:_

_Téa really is the mother/sister/girlfriend of the group (which is why she is always wanting more female friends ;D) and I can't imagine how let down she feels whenever one of the boys gets hurt. They all have the overwhelming tendency to run into danger as well. So Joey going into a coma, fighting death, and then waking up to try to run back to the battlefield must have really torn Téa apart. But she always lets them go, cause she's their lighthouse- the light they look for to go back home._

_That's the kind of love that makes me squeal :)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	11. no return address,,,Tears

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.26. **[( Tears )]

* * *

He takes a deep breath, exhales, steps forward and pulls her close, though she reluctantly attempts to stay where she is, pushing him away half-heartedly.

His cheek brushes against her soft hair and he feels the tears from her almond-shaped azure eyes trickle down her cheeks through his robes.

"I'd expect you to be happy, not crying," he grins weakly, looking away from the guys standing before him, bent over in silent laughter.

"I'm happy-crying," she says, her voice muffled by his broad shoulder and he moves her away gently, still unsure of what to say but offering an encouraging wink when she meets his inquiring gaze.

"Thanks?"

"It's just that- you've graduated!"

She embraces him, her arms wrapping around him, and he quiets a groan when he sees and hears the guys' audible shouts of mirth, their deep blue robes fluttering in the light breeze.

"I guess that is something to cry about," Tristan wheezes, red from having laughed so much and Joey breaks free to chase after him. Téa doesn't move, surprised, but then smiles to herself and watches them run, not bothering to lecture them today.

* * *

_A/N:_

_This kind of theme would have worked with the last shot but I like gang/Téa interaction on the humorous side with Joey better :)_

_And anyways, Téa's sentimental side always gets little love when it comes to Joey's accomplishments. And she's probably the reason he graduated too XD_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	12. miscellaneous notes,,,Mischief Managed

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.72. **([ Mischief Managed ])

* * *

I personally didn't use to like the idea of miracles. They made everything too easy, and I was a little too cynical to believe fate or destiny just suddenly managed to make everything ok in the end.

Turns out that in the span of four years, pretty much all of high school, I came face to face with more miracles than I would've liked to see. I've seen people come back to life from near-death, friends fall back in love, murderers gain compassion. But there are only two miracles that have made my life what it is today- and one of them has nothing to do with me.

You see, it's different when the bet involves a girl. A teacher, another guy, a random stranger, no one else in the world basically, had the emotional range to morph from a shy, focused student to a vengeful, furious psychopath intent on destroying one's physical display of manhood. _He_ knows this development better than any guy in _his _class, but unlike those who boast of such legendary stories, _he_ keeps quiet about _his _incident- especially since there only had been one.

And that had been his first and last.

Years later though, people remember- and whenever a random former classmate passing _him_ by on the street chooses to stop and talk, they will always, inevitably, draw close to reliving the event and retelling the story. _He_ has to work his best excuses to leave before it's mentioned, but for hours afterwards, the flashbacks will repeat nonstop and _he_'ll groan and whine and eventually fall asleep, futilely trying to erase the memory.

It only makes it more awkward that the girl _he_ had to chase after is sitting right beside _him_.

_He_ had never talked to her before, never tried to look up her skirt, never even had to face her when _he_ started another fight in the classroom and she glared at him, student council pin gleaming as _he_ walked past.

_He_ had never tried to slip ice cubes down her back during summer school, had never wanted to hook up with her, had never bumped into her as they walked by each other in the hallways just to press up against her, had never wanted to be her friend just go _he_ could move into the friends-with-benefits stage _he_ so desperately wanted to try out.

And yet, there they'll be, she lying on her stomach on _his_ bed, waiting for when _he_'ll wake up to tell _him he_'s late for work again. She'll tell _him_ to wipe away the crust on _his_ eyelashes and dry the drool on _his_ cheek, and _he_'ll stare unfocused, waiting until she starts making pancakes- _his_ one source of motivation.

To think that after nearly being suffocated and kicked to death by a girl _he_ had not even looked twice at because _he_ accepted a dare no man should ever take, _he_'ll lean against the counter in _his_ apartment, watching her spill syrup on _his_ plate and allow _himself _a second more to stare at her pale face framed by long brown hair- that is miraculous.

To think that _he_'s now daring enough to snatch her coffee for one hasty gulp before _he_ dashes out the door- and to think that she will yell and yet laugh as _he_ trips on _his_ doorstep- that is beyond miraculous.

And to think _he_'ll actually run back to the apartment an hour later, to find her sitting, her eyes red and the phone on the floor, her father's frantic voice echoing softly, to stay, running _his_ hand over her head and feeling her crumple into _him_.

It's not a miracle they have friends- for all her complaining, she's the sweetest girl anyone will know and for all _his_ arguing, no guy would ever say they didn't like _him_. It's a miracle they're friends, friends together and forever and somehow, inseparable in one way or another.

It might seem odd to classify an unlikely friendship as a miracle. But what makes it a miracle is not that they've lived and learned to forgive and forget- but that that one dare was the best mistake both of them ever made. It's a miracle they managed to look past the unfortunate incident, it's a miracle she can withstand _his_ personal habits and hygiene, it's a miracle she somehow loves _him_ more than she'll care to admit. And maybe one day _he_'ll wake up and see her watching _him_ and realize that out of all the mistakes _he_'s made, she's _his_ greatest, and out of all the girls _he_ ever cared to run after, she's the only one _he_'ll never catch and let go.

It's a miracle they can love each other without having to say it and are happy staring into another's eyes, because the love between _him_ and _her_ isn't about dating, marriage, engagements that have lost meaning.

It's a miracle they're friends, and it's enough to make me realize I shouldn't be afraid to admit happy endings can come from broken hearts, broken families, and broken smiles- even broken shins. And a broken wrist. They're a piece of work, together that's what it is.

They're the type of miracle work that makes the angels or the people in charge or God himself go "Mischief Managed."

And _he_'d like to add here, no one is happier about it than _him_.

* * *

_A/N:_

_This shot went through so many revisions, I lost track x) It started out as a prologue piece to 'Do Not Disturb' but it wasn't going in the right direction so it was shortened drastically and then I decided to change course completely. A couple of days later, and I had almost completely rewritten it several times with no luck- inspiration just didn't strike no matter what turn I tried._

_Finally, I realized with another character, this could finally work. And thus, Tristan was assigned to write a creative essay in which he took inspiration from two of his best friends. Don't think he's not eloquent enough ;) I have seen several times people become something quite different on paper- and Tristan has definitely shown brain-power in the series, he just doesn't know how to apply himself._

_The fact in this shot that I wanted to illuminate was that out of all the relationships in Yu-Gi-Oh!, Joey and Téa don't fit into any preconceived types. The hard-hitting girl befriending the loud-mouthed sidekick has been done before but there is no element of cliche romance which makes you wonder about the unique bond of understanding with these two. I actually do think it is a miracle they are friends and just stay that way- when you take a closer look at their personalities, you see that the typical bad-boy/good-girl, mothering the rebel, opposites attract notions fall away. Both of them obviously have something much deeper and that's one of the reasons I love writing about them :)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	13. condolences & consolations,,,Two Roads

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.44.** ([ Two Roads ])

* * *

_I shall be telling this with a sigh_

_Somewhere ages and ages hence:_

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_And that has made all the difference._

My finger twirls in my hair and I wonder if he would've stayed if it was long and golden, lighter than his, thicker than his, sunlight-wrought hair falling over a face with lips pursed in denial and eyelashes fluttering in betrayal.

I wonder if I walked the aisle and realized right there that someone was missing and instead of waking, I walked on, passing faces, and moving towards a light, a window that shattered as I took my last step. And instead of waking, I died and the nightmare sung lullabies of crying boys, lost in the rain, running away from sharp and scary things in the dark.

There's so much to wonder, and I wonder if he's wondering where I am, and if he wonders on a rooftop of stars or galaxies or he relaxes in a universe of his own.

I wonder if he remembers how I feel and if he sometimes walks beside me, taking my hand to guide me through the crowd and then letting go to breathe his blessing before flying away.

I wonder if he was never absent, and was in that hall, and saw God before looking down at himself. I can see him laugh and shake his head before moving away, far away- I wonder where he went.

I wish I could have woken and it was a simple fancy, a trick of the light, him walking past the light and meeting it on an intersection framed by three cars and one body and a gallon of blood.

I wonder if he saw me, heard me sob and scream, and saw me cry, and then wanted to tell me he was ok before kissing me goodbye.

I wonder if I wonder too much and too often and if I too will wander off and then dance into shadow of the lost kind. The kind where I suffocate and dream of dying and then realize on a highway to hell, there is neither heaven nor fire and I am stuck because I killed him.

I wonder if I should have been with him, if I should have stood on that precipice and understood him as he ran down alleys and church aisles and school hallways and he ran and ran and I watched him circle me with wonder.

I stop wondering if I loved him or he loved me because he told me he did and he twisted my wrist and he cried and my hand still hurts so his vow still holds, yes.

I wonder if the scars on my face will heal because his didn't and don't and will never so why should mine?

I'm wondering if I'm dead too and I passed away with him when the heart monitor went flat and I couldn't feel his breathing and then all of a sudden he was gone and I couldn't bring him back.

I wonder why I failed.

I wonder if I can die and then make it up to him.

I wonder why.

Why did I ever run after him?

* * *

_A/N:_

_I hope people understand this one O.o; This is a take on how Joey in an accident XP __It was quite different when I started it but then I decided that angst was good, as was exploring a bit of_ _Téa's passive-aggressive side._

_I also love Robert Frost's "The Road Less Traveled" and decided to put a spin on it- instead of two roads leading to different ways of life, I decided to put the road less traveled willingly as death, which we know Joey journeys on all the time._

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	14. regular correspondence,,,Hold My Hand

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.35.** ([ Hold My Hand ])

* * *

"Hold my hand," his mother used to bark, waving him over as springs of graying auburn danced around her face and her narrowed eyes and when she managed to seize his arm, she'd drag him across the street, ignoring his protests and attempts to squirm away.

He'd pull against her and try to kick her ankles but she'd shriek at him to hurry and he'd be just as afraid, knowing that in a few minutes his father would wake and begin to scream and curse for his dinner to an empty apartment littered with chewing gum wrappers, ash from cigarettes, wax from candles, and their dusty clothes would carpet the floor.

He'd never tell her but he'd try to press his fingernails into her wrist and sit on the sidewalk and pull at the grocery bags on purpose just so she'd give up and realize that they should both run and then maybe he wouldn't have to hide bruises on his arm and he wouldn't have to face the teacher's frown when he didn't complete his colorings and when he didn't have a lunch and when he skipped recess to go back home and make sure his mother was still there, and she was alive.

He wishes she would've known that he was trying to protect her by hiding the bills and lying to the police when they came knocking on the door when the fights grew too loud and when he was tardy to class, he was just trying to bury empty beer bottles under the garden she'd sigh at and never touch.

Maybe that's why she left him behind. He'd gnaw at the thin covers on his bed as midnight ticked up the clock face, hoping that she'd still be there in the morning, red for eyes and blue on her cheek and black in her snarl as she shoved him away from the refrigerator filled with nothing but aspirin bottles. He knew that one night she would go far away and he tried not to sob too loudly as he prayed, whispering to Jesus, trying to cross himself but he had never known how to.

He didn't know how to keep her safe, how to keep himself safe, how to stop a father who could laugh and kiss him gently and then a mere hour later, shake him with eyes dazed and bloodshot because he had downed three more than yesterday and was about to vomit over his clothes and he'd swear loudly over and over again.

He didn't know how to protect the little girl in his room, who would sing lullabies to him and whisper about spell-casting sheep and spiders that wove webs of destiny and helped gentle souls find love and kindness. He wanted to let his mother know that he needed the little girl too, and though she'd leave unexpectedly some mornings, snatching up her worn and fraying purse, taking the girl who would only look at him in the eye, he'd comfort himself by knowing that she couldn't take one without the other.

When he came home from the last day of school that summer, she had already begun to drive away.

He dropped his bag and ran, his legs tripping over themselves, his sneakers a size too big catching stones and dirt that scraped the bare feet inside. He screamed the little girl's name over and over because he could see her inside, too terrified too cry out loud, her cheek mashed against the window. He wanted to scream his mother's name too but then he fell and his knees began to bleed and he called her the names his father did before he tore at her hair and pulled her into the bedroom.

He wishes she would have come back, and he wished so hard for years afterwards that he tried finding ways to go to her and the little girl in alleys where pills were gold, and blood was water, and no one cared about your name if you could provide a little warmth to a cold, broken heart.

He no longer hid the bills- he did his best to pay them.

He no longer lied to the policemen peering past the doorway- he let them in and hoped his father had collapsed in the dark closet of his room where no one could see him.

He no longer buried empty beer bottles, because he drunk from them now too and he felt no shame throwing them onto the street where people could see and shake their heads in disgust and pity.

"Hold my hand," his mother used to say, looking at him with disdain, not wanting to take the small boy who thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world but was too afraid to tell her so.

When she left, his hand became a fist and he didn't know how to uncurl the fingers or how to walk beside someone without wanting to race or without worrying about vengeance and commitment and duty. He'd stare at his ceiling, trying to forgive himself and wondering if he'd scare the little girl away, the one he dreamed about, and who whispered stories of redemption to him when he lay shivering in the dark, his leg broken and his eyes bleeding, vowing to become better and never let himself fall to the ground again.

He'd wonder if he'd ever be loved. He was too weak and desperate, too angry and foul-mouthed.

He'd wonder if someone would ask for his hand because they wanted to hold it.

He used to wonder this and it ate away at his hunger and thirst and it was sustenance enough for him to keep going, searching for an invisible hand that would never leave him, though he'd want to run away because he was afraid of loving and being let down.

He still wishes she would come back, the little girl would come back, the father for a few hours dry of sweat and alcohol and lost tears would come back. He knows he will never forget to wish and want for them, the happy family in a cloud of self-deception and deceit he inhales because cigarette smoke will kill him and he has the urge to stay alive. He begins to throw away the bottles and empty the small container of pills and he starts going to school, no matter what the time, because part of him feels as if it's the only place that can sew up the straggling pieces deep inside he wants to hold together.

He's only stopped wishing for one hope- he's stopped wishing for someone to hold his hand. He walks down the hallways, seeing in corridors boy and girls, finger intertwined, eyes lost in the right direction, and his hand will clench. He'll walk and walk and accidentally knock against a girl stepping around the others, as if she's not sure where she should go. He'll look at her, and watch her open her mouth before realizing it's only him there and she'll close it with a small sound.

She'll blink at him before turning to open her locker, and he'll study his fist an hour afterwards, wondering if he should have apologized. Her eyes were blue he'll remember but he'll forget a moment later because he bites his lip, not wanting anymore regret and wondering why he feels so frail around those who can't even speak to him, whether in memory or truth.

He takes a breath, shakes his head, and wishes he could have.

* * *

_A/N:_

_And thus Joey Wheeler meets the most important girl in his life. Yes, I said it, and it's not Mai or Serenity, it's the girl who watched him transform from thug to punk to a golden-hearted boy who could finally love :)_

_Before any of you think that this is too angsty for Joey, I'd like to point out that this is the one time I've actually incorporated manga canon- Joey's father really was a terrible drunkard and little Joey oftentimes faced neglect. The Joey we know has let go of crime basically and is a happy-go-lucky guy we adore. But I've always believed that him having suffered a lot in the past contributes to his belief in luck and fate, his surprising perceptiveness even though he can be quite stupid, and his heartbreaking tendency to get hurt so often, especially by always going after things that hurt him- Kaiba, Mai, saving the world._

_So, this is actually the very first piece of the story on how Joey and Téa met and became friends, according to this writer. It comes before 'Do Not Disturb' and will follow the Duel Monsters anime scheme- no Season 0 or manga references anymore. Don't worry though, Yugi and Tristan play their parts, but since little of Téa's past and only a bit of Joey's is shown, I want to elaborate on that as having developed together ;P_

_Last thing to say here is that I rather like the idea of two best friends meeting for the first time without saying or doing anything- just a simple encounter they won't even remember, even when they're friends._

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	15. miscellaneous notes,,,Vacation

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.21. **([ Vacation ])

* * *

There's a small problem.

She doesn't want to go.

Tristan turned with a look of shock and Duke grunted sleepily.

And supposedly the reason why is because she's…a girl.

Duke lifted his head, glaring groggily and opening his mouth to talk but Tristan waved his hand, asking silently for silence.

And there's no way to fix this problem. How's she not supposed to be a girl anymore? Well, ok maybe a certified surgeon could help but she wouldn't like that and come to think of it, I don't think anyone who knew her would, wait what was I talking about again?

Téa's not going, Tristan prompted.

Oh yeah, that's right, and now we're one member short of what we planned! Why did she call in so late? There must be something wrong, we have to ask her if she's ok.

Yug, relax. You're getting way too stressed, Duke chuckled. Maybe she just can't go?

Then she would have said so, Tristan sighed. She's a lot more blunt than you might think.

Duke frowned. Girls aren't that direct you know, he shrugged, running a hand lazily through his hair.

Téa is, Tristan nodded, kicking aside Duke's foot to put up his own on Bakura's desk.

Bakura said nothing, simply staring at his laptop with an occasional glance at the others. He had not reacted to the news like Duke and Tristan had since he was the one who carefully whispered to Yugi that Téa was having doubts about the trip, leading to that distressing phone call.

Maybe we could persuade her?

That being a girl isn't so bad? Duke laughed. He noticed even Bakura looking at him with raised brows and turned away, digging into his pockets for his cell with exasperated muttering. He blinked at the glowing screen, rapidly typed for two seconds and then waited for a moment before a response appeared with a small chime.

She is not going and that's final, Duke slurred, enunciating the words as slowly as possible. Tristan groaned, swung his hand to the back of Duke's head and kicked the leg of his chair so Duke fell to the floor with a flustered yell.

There's no way then? We'd all been looking forward to this trip for so long too. Doesn't she like cruises anyways?

Make that face when you go over to her house and ask, she'll definitely change her mind, Tristan winked. Duke clambered back on his chair, scowling at Tristan as Bakura suddenly looked at the clock.

Where is Joey? He suddenly asked.

He's doing some make-up work. He promised to finish it so we could go on the trip tomorrow. Maybe Téa was doing make-up work, too?

Let it go Yugi, Duke grinned. As if our Téa ever finished her work after the deadline?

Wait, Joey would know, he didn't even know about Téa not going, meaning he would get the perfect idea on the spot!

What? How does that even make sense- Duke asked incredulously but Tristan watched expectantly as Bakura called Joey on his phone, talking quietly in his usual clipped, gentle way. They all nodded with eyes wide as he spoke, mouthing words he should say, waving their hands frantically when Bakura had to backtrack.

When he at last finished the call, all of their eyes followed the phone as it was set down. Bakura looked up, puzzled and spoke haltingly.

He says he knows what to do, Bakura smiled weakly. Supposedly, Téa has an irrational fear of him getting hurt.

News flash, it's not just him, Duke rolled his eyes.

So he said he would go jump off her roof and then tell her he was still going on the cruise.

What?! And we should just let him do that? Téa will hate herself if he gets hurt!

Yugi, Joey's not that stupid. Right?

Yes he is, Tristan snapped, suddenly sullen. I wouldn't be surprised if…

They all looked at each with horror simultaneously.

Oh dear, Bakura muttered as Duke and Tristan led the way, stomping down the stairs, slamming the door closed behind them, and then sprinting down the neighborhood in a matter of seconds. The houses blurred beside them and the black road practically flowed under their feet. In a few minutes, they were already out of breath and Tristan was lamenting about not bringing along his motorbike.

You know, Duke laughed breathlessly after a small silence, he's probably going to get worse injuries when she gets a hold of him. Maybe he won't get to go on the cruise after he gets whacked around by Téa.

Probably will end up with a broken leg or two, Tristan nodded slyly. He sniggered as he caught Yugi's horrified gaze at the two of them.

Don't worry about it Yug! When Téa's around, we never get hurt.

Other than duels, Bakura slipped in, trying his best to keep up with the others.

Well yeah. But when we're you know, doing normal stuff, she's got us covered. Basically. Or at least when we do get banged up…she's got the first aid.

And let's hope that's all Joey will need, Duke laughed.

_

* * *

_

A/N:

_I wrote this during one of my 6 hour long breaks between classes XD and I was extremely tired, much like Duke, which is why I'm kind of apathetic towards this one. I like the idea of Joey being a lovable idiot and yet an intelligent fiend in order to coerce Téa to come along but maybe the style I wrote this in makes it less interesting to read._

_Also, I'm not going to have a piece on the Joey-falling-off-roof incident but I will explain why Téa suddenly had a change of heart...I think I will enjoy writing that one more. x)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	16. condolences & consolations,,,Stars

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.34.** ([ Stars ])

* * *

Do you know when a boy means what he says? No, it's not when he's in love or when he's been caught smoking or drinking or cheating or they finally realize he's not okay. It's not when he's happy or when he's in distress and it's not when he's around the boys. It's never when he's around a girl. He'll start lying to his parents, his teachers, to himself after a while, and soon nothing he says is really what he means because lying is so much easier.

But he will say it in the end. A boy will eventually tell the absolute truth about what he feels and what he means. And he'll say it to the person he sees for the last time in his life. He doesn't need to speak it and it doesn't need to be right as he leaves, soul slipping from heart. It doesn't have to be an apology or a confession, it will be anything he realizes he wants to share.

And he doesn't have to see a person right there, existing by his side. The one time a boy says what he wants, what he truly feels, it will be to a person he does not choose. That someone might be there, crying over him as he is pulled off the street or crouching over him in a hospital bed and she might be a welcome sight or the reminder of a painful memory he thought he had rewritten. Or a phantom whispers into his ear and he sees a face he had forgotten at the last moment.

Some strange rule of Heaven lets him see a person and tell the truth. And then he will disappear into light and the boy will no longer breathe or speak. And the truth will rise into the air after his and no one it leaves behind might truly understand.

Why do I tell you this? Because I met the boy who did not say his truth as he died.

His breathing was slowing and his pupils were dilated and he was grasping at the air as I drew closer, minding the bleached leaves and cold puddle water in which he lay. He was at an intersection and his blood was thinning and I looked up to see a girl stagger toward him, her eyes dying just like he was on the road.

I crept to his side and whispered to him that he could speak now and his arms fell, no longer reaching, and he smiled. I waited but he did not speak and his heartbeats ebbed away and I pressed my hand over his eyes but he did not move. A flight of shrill sirens flashed around him and I waited, wanting to hear his confession but he would not move his lips. I looked up to follow his gaze and found that I could see no stars, and the sky was black, pure black.

I could hear the girl now, and she was beside him, her face wet with tears, and she kept trying to speak but her voice was strangled by a high pitch and hiccupping sobs. His hand twitched and I watched with surprise as he took her wrist and kissed it, releasing his hold just as his lips touched her skin. I felt all his warmth rush away and I felt his soul struggle to release.

"I'm glad to go," he whispered, and I felt something twist inside of me. That was a lie. The girl simply kneeled beside him silently now, her eyes unfocused.

It was a lie, I wanted to say but I was speechless now too because his soul was waiting, staring at me as I took his hand. There is still a heart beating, I wanted to say but I could only begin to lead him away. I looked at his face but he was still smiling. He followed me, walking carefully along and he moved away from the girl without looking back.

And then I realized he was dead long before he died. His life had been stored away elsewhere and he ran away to lose his body, too. When were you alive, I wanted to ask but then I heard the girl and saw him lose his smile.

He did not say anything but he seemed to tremble as he listened to her whisper over and over again, "I'd always run after you."

That was his truth his eyes screamed. And he did not smile, waiting until we could not hear her, before he cried.

* * *

_A/N: _

_This is actually the companion piece to "Two Roads," the previous 'condolences&consolations' piece that dealed with a scenario where Joey dies after suffering through major depression. I had several ideas for post-death/heaven situations but this one came spontaneously and it wasn't hard to write at all. I actually like this one a lot, despite it being all angst-ridden x)_

_By the way, this is not a series of related ficlets so it does not fit into 'regular correspondence' where I am currently writing my version of how Joey and Téa met and became friends. I think I will concentrate on getting that story arc done before writing anything else. ;P_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	17. regular correspondence,,,Misfortune

love letters addressed to anonymous

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**.13.** ([ Misfortune ])

* * *

He wasn't ready, he wanted to say, throat dry and eyes itching. Some other day, let's just leave her alone.

Hit her, they yelled, a happy song, a rehearsed chorus and Ushio was whispering crude passes at her and she was still standing there, eyes narrowed, lips quivering, her fists at her side.

Hit her, they kept laughing and they called her names that were not her own and they stared at her skirt and the curve under her uniform and they leered and jeered and spat on the ground, wishing they could reach out and pull and push her…

He didn't want to, he wanted to say and he wanted to scream at her to run and to forget about student council pins and responsibility and that sometimes turning your face to the ground and turning around to run away was fine. It's ok to run and it's not your fault because this is the way it is, he reminded himself and he wanted to tell her the same.

"Hit her," Ushio laughed.

"Hit her," the boys' voices cracked around him and they nudged him with sharp elbows and scuffed sneakers and his eyes burned and he couldn't swallow.

He had been sure he would never see those blue eyes again until when homerooms decided to switch around students to balance ratios and he found himself in another classroom but the walls were the same white and the desks were still scratched and the faces were still nothing but blank. There she was. She was in the first row, looking up with the color of sky and water and deepest sweetest crayon blues, and there she was.

And now she was here and she blinked from apprehensive to angry and she opened her mouth and their commands echoed heavily around his ears.

"Hit the damn skank!"

A little boy wants happiness and yellow and playgrounds with mothers who push on the swings and gather the child at the end of the slide.

"Punch her in her pretty mouth!"

Boys want men for fathers to guide them from faltering uneasy steps to strides towards places they know they need to go.

"Shut up the filthy little slut!"

Men are letters of misfortune, someone sang long ago.

"Stop it," she was saying and the boy with crooked glasses and a bleeding nose was still on the ground beside them, looking at her with a love that twisted his heart. Run, he wanted to yell at the boy but he was frozen, bruised and hurting just like him, just with no aftermath from punches and kicks and jibes that wormed through his ears. The pain pushed his heart back and forth.

Smiles aren't enough, we get hungry for love and we end up fighting for something broken and shattered like glass. That's the way it is, so you can run and maybe forget this all.

"Stop it," she was asking them and she didn't need to but she still didn't run and she was brave enough not to cry. Why are you still here?

You can apologize, someone whispered every time he stepped into the room, taking his seat rows away from her, recognizing the eyes and the cropped hair and the round, young face. I won't, he shrugged and remorse etched another small tally mark inside.

"What are you waiting for, Wheeler? Hit her."

They were quiet now and he wished he could run like he always did and that his stomach and lungs and heart and soul weren't crying out for mercy from all these voices. Why are you asking me? Ask her and why she keeps staring at me, asking me why I'm silent and not stepping forward…

Hit her. Hit her. Hit her.

And then her eyes moved away from his and someone else was pulling back, aiming for her, inches away from a strike. It was another black face and another rough voice and he was nothing but a shadow, trying to hurt her-

He felt it before, the smallest bud of anger that helped him find a grip on the boy's wrist and he stepped in front of her and he felt it again, the smallest bud of hope. Something twisted away from his heart and he didn't want to hurt her, he didn't want to hurt this stupid boy, he wished he could be alone away from all this hurt.

He couldn't see her any longer and he faced them, the group of wide exposed fangs and snarling beads of black eyes and someone whispered he could run.

Hit her.

He felt her behind him and his hands, empty, unable to hold onto another, twitched.

"I won't."

* * *

_A/N: _

_This piece has got me so excited for the rest of this arc! ;D It was interesting writing this because I wanted to do it in a special kind of style that echoed 'Hold My Hand' but I was also listening to the 2nd ending of Bleach and so I was in a bold and dramatic mood. ;3 Hopefully you guys will like this because I can't wait to get into the shots where these two interact and the real fun begins. As a small reminder, the piece after this is what leads into 'Do Not Disturb.' Everything from there will follow chronologically and I've planned at least 5 more chapters. Then I'll start planning my next arc. :)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	18. regular correspondence,,,Standing Still

love letters addressed to anonymous

* * *

**.42.** ([ Standing Still ])

* * *

She dreamed about him now. But it was always in vain.

Every time she sensed the end, when he suddenly stared at her, pleading silently that she leave, his face hollowed and gaunt and a dying light flickering in his eyes, she'd wish out loud for him to show her his face.

The face when he spoke those words with his back to her, protecting her, angry and bitter as he told them that he wouldn't, he wouldn't hit her. But he never turned around.

As the images blurred into one long, twisted shadow, and she could only hear the teachers yelling at them to stop and go the principal's office, she'd sigh and feel something like remorse whisper through her.

She'd rub her eyes in the dark, awake long before the sun rose, wanting to dream it again, not sure why for a week he had quietly haunted her, morphing from another mocking face into a boy she lost the face of. When the next night fell and she waited for him to appear again, she'd remember to stare, wanting to mark the subtle change from another delinquent, telling her to back off, his voice harsh and commanding, to a student guarding her against taunts and laughs that provoked the smallest of tears to rest over her wide eyes.

It started the same and ended the same and by the time the faintest beams of light played under her window shade, she had dreamed the dream awake several more times. It confused her, how weak she had felt behind him, as if there was no strength to his move but only a weak mercy he had tried to save her with. She did not know whether he was saving his own morals or whether her mistake of approaching them warranted such obsession over how he stared back at the gang.

All she knew was that there was a grace to how his arm had moved to push away the boy leaning in to hit her and how when he shoved him away, his lips were curled and his eyes were narrowed and his face was contorted into an ugly, desperate shape of quiet fury.

And the cycle would reset, a clock set back to one 5 minute period she lived through thousands of times.

There she was standing still, snarling at them to stop, wanting to vomit from seeing how much blood was over the face of the kid slumped against the wall, and how his eyes couldn't open to see her, and how his nose and mouth dripped red, arms around his gut she didn't want to believe there was red over.

And then there he was. From the back, he stepped forward, telling her to beat it and tossing his head to the side, a strange look over his face. She shrieked that she wouldn't and that they should stop and he took another step, warning her to leave. And then the tallest in the group slapped his back and laughed and everyone around him grinned with pleasure, a disgusting black smear of masochistic pleasure and they congratulated him.

And then they ordered him to hit her. And here, every time it replayed, she'd notice how he looked at her, a glance slowed down in her mind to watch him silently understand and comprehend the instruction. They began to sing it, their weird wish, and it echoed around her and it was no longer her play. They waited for him, and they stared at her, and she could see painted over their visage a bloodlust that frightened her into standing still.

She couldn't run away. They had trapped her with their arrogant sneering.

Yet, she didn't want to run away.

In the moment before he moved to stand before her, she realized she knew him, the boy who slouched in his seat in the back, refusing to participate, failing every class, cheating on the make-ups, disrespecting the teacher, ignoring her requests for his suggestions.

And yet he was the boy she would always surreptitiously turn in her chair to look for, and she always bit her lip, wondering why he came to class. He arrived on time and he only talked to other boys, refusing to look at the girls, keeping his gazing for the unattainable seniors. He was neither sly nor clever, his pranks juvenile, his jokes silly and elementary, his tone of voice childish and his every movement gangly and awkward.

She knew him. She did not know why it bothered her, how he was a young child walking the halls with the face of a man who had drunk in too much, solids and liquids and gases that rotted insides away. He always caught her eye. A turn of the head, and he was there in her peripheral zone, a blur in her clear range, a hint of something she could not understand.

And when he stood before her, his lips trembling and his fists clenched, he was still out of focus, a distant something she could dream about and still never interpret.

But she would never run, never once in the continuous review, because something made her heart cry out when he said he wouldn't, he wouldn't hit her.

And past the refusal, the way he defended her, the way he ordered her to keep away, the way he lingered in the back, she saw the smallest bud of something.

She had tried reasoning that she hadn't been trying to save anyone else, that she was done meddling, but the boy screaming out on the grass called out to her. Again she was the girl who everyone ignored, the one who walked alone in the rain, the one falling in the studio, running after the group, wanting love and stumbling in the dark.

Again she was about to be the one beat back down, maybe physically, no longer with just words. She knew this as she told them to stop. She was always rushing towards the inevitable, the unavoidable, and she felt her knees buckle.

And then he turned away, the hero's method of disguise, and told them they couldn't touch her.

For the first time, she had been saved. She paused, the dream stopping for one moment, and she reached to hold onto his shoulder, and just as he turned, everything faded.

And she'd wake, shadows and no light and the smallest bud of something deep within her.

* * *

_A/N:_

_When I started writing this, I didn't expect to reflect so much on 'Misfortune.' XD But looking back on it, it really was a scary and strange experience and I think this is what prompts Téa to start reaching out to Joey. It was really weird to actually write this because I didn't want to give away a lot of Téa's previous character before her friendship with the gang and I wanted to capture Joey's unique behavior as closely as possible again. I hope you guys like this and are enjoying the arc so far, I promise a lot more action is going to happen soon. :)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	19. regular correspondence,,,Playing Melody

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.67.** ([ Playing the Melody ])

* * *

"Wheeler, are you paying attention?"

_Hell no I ain't._

"Joey volunteered last time, remember Mr. Hari?"

"He…did?"

"Yeah, so it's fine."

"Oh, alright then…"

_Don't worry, you don't owe me._

_Tch, now she probably thinks I owe her or something._

-.-.-.-.-

"What happened to your face Wheeler?"

"Oh wow, that's- that's- wow-"

"Ed, you're going to choke…"

"That's nasty!"

"Whoa, what happened? Come on Wheeler, that's some disgusting work there-"

"It's freaking disgusting! Man, what did they do, feed you shi-"

"Joey?"

"Alright, back off now. I swear, all of you fuc-"

"Joey!"

_Why are you staring at me like that?_

_Did they do it because of me?_

"Here."

"What the hell are these for?"

"You douche, she gave you bandages. Dontcha know how to use them?"

"I swear Cal, I will punch the crap out of you…"

_Why are you helping me?_

"I have another pack for a larger size if you want-"

"I don't want them. These are the crappy kind."

_Leave me alone._

_Why won't you just take them? I'm sorry, ok?_

"Oh."

-.-.-.-.-

"Some people haven't turned in their forms yet. We can't go on the trip until everyone has given them to me. And they have to be signed!"

_Don't come asking me for mine._

"Joey, we don't have yours yet."

"So?"

"So I need it."

"You mean Mr. Mustachio needs it."

"Joey…um, do you not have a guardian to sign it?"

_What the hell?_

"I don't want to go."

"Well I want to."

"Find your own way then."

"Are you really a lowlife or are you just playing the melody?"

_What the hell._

"You can't even make up your mind if you hate or pity me."

"That's not true."

"You suck at lying."

"Just hand me the paper. I know it's signed. I know you want to go, too. Now give it and I mean now."

_Why do you keep looking at me like that?_

_Why are you in this class? Why did they have to bring you in?_

"Whatever."

_Thanks._

"What, no thank you?"

-.-.-.-.-

"He made out with his own mother!"

"Oh my God, that's so freaking gross!"

"Well Ushio's dad is his brother supposedly…"

"I'm going to throw up."

"Hah, they're all such losers."

"And remember your date Eri? Kevin?"

"Oh don't tell me!"

"Wait, tell tell! I wanna know…"

"Hey what about Joey?"

"He's not even cute, Sera…"

"Besides, he's as dumb as a nail…"

"Oh he's got the worst life ever. His dad is dead and his mom is a hooker and his sister is supposedly entering the prostitute business too…"

"That's not true."

"Oh. Hey Téa."

"It's not true."

_I shouldn't say anything. I don't want to be lying._

"Come on you guys, it so is."

"Oh we know."

-.-.-.-.-

"Hey."

_We're not friends._

"Here you go Joey."

_Stop chasing me._

"Can you pass that please?"

_I'm already getting punished…_

"Thank you."

-.-.-.-.-

"Who is he?"

_You look different every day._

"Some guy in my class."

"Oh do you like him?"

"No way, I annoy him most of the time."

"On purpose?"

"No. I just…he's just easily annoyed…"

"Oh I get it. Is he the bad-boy type?"

_Would you run away if you saw me staring out the window at you?_

"Yeah. I guess…"

_But it's never that easy to understand you._

_I know you see me._

-.-.-.-.-

"Hey Joey, you know…if you need any help with math-"

_Am I your charity case?_

"Am I a charity case?"

_Why are you always so easily offended by me?_

"Why are you always so easily offended?"

_Why are you trying to help me?_

"I don't need any help. So bug off."

_I'm trying to._

"I know it's not in your nature to be a nice, decent person but it is in mine!"

"Really? Like you actually care about my pathetic life?"

"I-"

"You're probably using some psychiatric tech to figure me out right now huh? It's not working."

"I don't obsess over you ok?"

"Just admit it. No one likes you either. So you're wanting to bond with the other most unpopular kid."

_That's not true._

"We aren't the same."

"You're a loser, too."

_That's not true._

"You can just say if you-"

"Don't want your help? What, do I have to scream it? I don't want your damn help!"

_I wish that wasn't true._

"If you don't, then why do I feel like you do?"

_

* * *

A/N:_

_I don't know what to think about this piece. x) It's supposed to serve as a bridge between 'Standing Still' and 'Do Not Disturb' while hinting at what will happen in the future but I think the style makes this all very understated XD; I hope it at least shows how awkward the two feel around each other and how they're still not finding closure from what happened in 'Misfortune.' I hope it's ok and you guys like it...I know I have switched styles a lot for the chapters of this arc but I'm exploring my range too :3 So if you don't like this chapter then I hope future ones will be better :]_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	20. no return address,,,Trouble Lurking

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.25.** ([ Trouble Lurking ])

* * *

If only they were girls, too. Maybe then they would understand. And not resort to such ill-fated measures as climbing up onto her roof and loudly proclaiming they were going to fall a moment before they actually did slip and tumble down with an accompanying cry recalling a pterodactyl.

Then again, if they were girls, there wouldn't be a problem. In fact, the problem wasn't even that they were boys. The whole issue at fault was that she was _the_ girl.

The only one. The one who had to be a mother, a sister, a forger-of-absentee-notes, an allower-of-cheating-only-this-time, a guardian-over-the-phone, the maid service, the complete package without the dominatrix outfit because she was definitely _not_ for entertainment.

She was like a wife, the girl in a reverse harem – except there was never any…well…you know what.

Honest to God, it was good for them that they were boys. They could get away with many, many, _many _things. On the other hand, she, as a girl, was limited from doing many, many, _many_ things, including the things they got away with.

Relaxing on a tropical cruise with five of her best friends was her dream. As in she had not only suggested it but practically lived off it as the semester wound down. She'd imagine the scene where they played water volleyball when her muscles tightened up and refused to un-knot during dance practice. When she started falling asleep on her desk because tutoring the boys the night before had been exhausting, she'd think of the taste of exotic fruit and coconut water and the smell of salty sea air. And when she was late for work and was yelled at because she had overscheduled, as usual, and now she had too many volunteer project hours a week and she'd sulk in the corner as she mopped, she'd remind herself that she'd get a great tan and show off the new bikini she bought.

And it only took a moment for the dream to snag on reality and trip her over. _Damn it_, she groaned.

It wasn't as simple as her worrying over being labeled a slut. That had happened before, she had gotten into a few fights (not physical of course) and realized that at least her boys were good-looking enough for her not to mind sleeping with (not that she ever _(ever!) _would). She was prepared for the situation - the words rolled right off her own tongue when the nasty green face snarled as she past by with her entourage. The boys didn't even gasp in surprise anymore – they took to silently glaring back and clenching their fists.

It wasn't even the side-effects of being a girl and those were countless. The boys were over at her house more often than they were at school and so they saw her tampons, used in the garbage bin, unopened in her bathroom (she'd never forget the first shriek). They had seen her legs unwaxed, her armpits a bit unclean, the occasional blackheads and pimples on her face (the silence was way too loud to ignore in the beginning). They had even, absolutely accidentally, stepped in on her changing and though it was embarrassing the first few times, after the 52nd, Téa would just sigh at the swear and hurried exit and promptly forget about it.

She was never "one of the boys" (she was way too much of a girl) but anything and everything the guys would normally flinch at didn't matter when they knew she was involved.

And all of this applied to her only. And _her_ only. There was no other girl like her. Not Serenity. Not Mai. _Never_ Rebecca. She could not be replaced. And this was not her ego speaking. The boys were intent on making her know that she was needed, even more than Yugi. There was something about her that made her different.

And that right there was the problem.

She was still _a_ girl.

She got scared thinking about any of her boys as something more than a friend. She had suffered through enough heartbreak to swear off relationships indefinitely but dating one of the boys wasn't illegal because she was afraid of rejection or a break-up…she was just really scared of changing the group.

She was scared that in the summer sun and on the sandy beach something in one of her guys might change. She was scared of seeing them hit on local girls and she didn't want to see any making out, any fondling, any anything. She didn't want to be hit on herself, she didn't want temptation, she didn't want to be reminded that a whole group of guys adored her and she sometimes wished they didn't. She didn't want any drunken mistakes, drunken confessions, drunken blank of anything.

She pinched her palm and swallowed down something awful that came up but it was there, black against white, blazed across the sky, an undeniable truth. It was the trouble lurking under her calm voice over the phone, helping her create a blatant lie for the boys.

Then one of them appeared to the rescue and her doom. The boy who enjoyed testing how hard her heart could slam against her ribcage came flying down past her window and she screamed in absolute terror.

She knew it before she had opened the door, sprinted to his side, pummeled his arm and yelled in his ear. She saw his face squinting up at her, face contorted in pain and that familiar laugh echoing around her.

She knew that of all of them, this one boy would be the one to change her mind and make her overlook her epiphany.

And so for a moment, she didn't mind that she had realized…

…she was kinda in love with all of them.

* * *

_A/N:_

_This was long over-due wasn't it? XD I followed my darling sister's advice and took a break from _regular correspondence_ for a change of pace!_

_This kind of situation has actually happened to quite a few girls around me and I think post-canon Téa would be very confused about relationships, especially being around a newly-matured group of boys. I'm not saying this applies to any girl who has had a number of guy friends but I think it's only logical that we experiment and think about them a certain way, just for pure speculation. And considering just how close Téa is to the guys, I thought that the perfect mix of jealousy and suffocation from their affections would suit her._

_The reasons (afraid to be called a slut/afraid to expose girl issues) Téa nixes are actually ones that I thought of using...but then as I wrote I ended up thinking of a better conclusion and I ended up with this, a piece I'm quite proud of. :) This follows 'Vacation' and although it's not only Devotionshipping-inclusive, I assigned a special role to Joey so I think it fits anyways. :D_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	21. condolences & consolations,,,Triangle

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.90.** ([ Triangle ])

* * *

The shape was weird.

It was so pointy.

It was really strange.

The tips looked so sharp, like they could pierce you. Like you'd do anything to be on the side, on one of the lines, just as long as you weren't perched on the top.

It was like a very strange knife.

It hurt just looking at it. It hurt even thinking about it. It was a stupid word with weird spelling, and a stupid shape.

Joey blinked slowly at her window, feeling too tired to move and wanting to go back inside.

She didn't like triangles either. They were weird and pointy and she had been placed at the top and the moment the boys at the bottom converged into one, she fell on empty space. There was nothing to fall on, no easy landing. Her triangle was baseless.

Were girls always at the top? There were triangles with points named boy, girl, girl, but those lines were different, vastly different. There was a huge difference. And even then, the guy was never at the top. No, it was always a girl who fell. His girl fell, too. But she ran away.

He wished he could help his girl. He wished he could make her choice for her. But he knew, at least, he was luckier. The girl he was trying to find by staring through her wall wasn't.

Joey finally tilted his head back, yawned, and began to stagger his way down her driveway, not seeing much in the dark, not seeing much because he was thinking too much.

Triangles hurt. They wouldn't support anything unless you inverted them and then placed them side by side in a weird pattern. A whole endless line of heartbreak and deception and creative lies and whispers in the moonlight and cravings and fantasies and the oddest feeling that you were chained and trapped but you enjoyed it because something felt right there.

Something weird and strange felt good when you were pinned down in desperation.

And even inverted, even turned on its side, the girl point of the triangle pointing downward is eventually crushed by two boys weighing her down.

Téa hated them. She despised them. She had the right to hate triangles more than him.

He wished he could help her. It just didn't seem fair.

For his case, he worried needlessly. It would happen eventually…the points of his triangle would converge and resolution would come. There would be a return, he hoped for a reunion, but he didn't dare to hope for one that would last. He just wanted a 'the end.' Though his story was no fairytale.

But her triangle. He wished he could turn back time and stop it from constructing, from assembling, from grabbing her and placing her at the top so cruelly. He could be the one to shield her from that poking feeling of despair and choice.

He wished he could help her. It just didn't seem fair.

It wasn't fair that when one of the points, the one she had been rooting for, shattered, it tore her in half. And then the other point receded, running away from her, in awkward silences and testy conversations and the feeling that you lost something so precious and it'll never come back to you clumsily tore at her words.

It wasn't fair.

Joey turned back, eyes unfocused, too sleepy to take another step. He should have stayed. But then again he shouldn't have. She was alone in her room, she wanted to be alone, and he should leave her alone.

For a while. He'd try again. He'd come back.

For some reason, seeing her cry over a stupid weird useless shape made him want to do something. Something violent. Something horrible. He hadn't decided yet.

He wished that seeing her smile through tears didn't make his insides twist into some knotted shape, a bulge that kept shifting around, scratching against his inner sides.

He would even sacrifice the happy ending he wanted from his triangle just so she could smile again without salty water dripping over her fingers.

He wanted to help her. Something inside of him desperately needed to. Because it wasn't fair that what she hurt from couldn't touch him.

He wanted to fight it for her.

And when he met it head-on, he'd make sure it would never touch her again.

_

* * *

A/N:_

_Ok, well I don't know what to think of this one...I made a small list of shot-ideas that had to be done and one of them was about how Joey and Téa are both involved in major love triangles...do you realize how many triangles are in this series? Both canon and fanon? XD;_

_Anyways, as soon as I saw the prompt word I decided to tackle that idea but I really didn't know what style, what theme, what mood...and then I got inspiration from a Disney Channel series I watch, "Wizards of Waverly Place!" ;D The two lead actors are so obviously in love in real life but play brother and sister in the show...so I decided, what if Joey's protective instincts are a mix between needing to protect her like a brother, or wanting to protect her because he actually likes her?_

_So yeah, I hope it's not too awkward and you guys like it. :) Thanks so much for a warm welcome back!_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	22. condolences & consolations,,,Blood

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.17.** ([ Blood ])

* * *

She had just finished talking to him. She had just finished giving him directions to the mall shop where Serenity was planning to meet him. She had just finished saying goodbye when a foot from the darkness behind her punctuated her leg, snapping the knee forward. She had just finished cutting off her lifeline when two hands pulled her into the alleyway beside her and she screamed because she didn't know what else to do.

She turned around, kicking him back, punching his hooded cheek but there was a feeling smiling wickedly at her and crowing something dark and dangerous. She aimed for his groin and his kneecap and her toes ached when they hit metal cups and she gasped as he laughed and wrenched her to the side.

The feeling opened its mouth and she stared into it because there were no eyes for her to find in the dark.

The feeling spoke and it said **youre** **going** **to** **break**.

-.-.-.-.-

Joey hung up and scratched the back of his neck, not quite sure if he remembered all of the instructions.

Tristan came in from the kitchen, leaping over the couch to grab the remote and turn on the TV.

"Know where to go tomorrow?"

"Kind of. 'S alright, I can always call her again."

"And tick her off?"

"Like that's unavoidable," Joey rolled his eyes. Tristan laughed in agreement, falling back beside him and tossing over the can of Pringles in his hand to Yugi, half-asleep on the sofa beside them.

-.-.-.-.-

He slammed her against the wall, taking care to make sure her head whipped back so that she cried out, the strength in her arms failing and her legs buckled. His hands were everywhere, under her shirt, under the waist of her jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, so quick and fast and she managed to scream out.

He slapped her and she was already wishing that this was a dream, that this was a flashback, that this was just like freshman year when the mugger tried to assault her but someone was there to help her…

But there was no one there but him and her hyperactive heart, pumping hot blood that seared her veins and flushed her cheeks and brought a warm dizziness to buzz about her ears and she realized that her scream was empty and her mouth was moving without sound.

He pushed her to the ground and she realized she was still holding her cell phone and as he punched her right under her sternum, grating himself over her shivering form, she held onto it, fingers white.

-.-.-.-.-

Yugi snored quietly and Tristan smiled, glancing at Joey who grinned back before fixing his attention on the game muted before them. The digital clock snapped to 12:00 and Tristan blinked, biting his lip and staring down at the ground.

Joey looked over, brows furrowing and he stared down at Tristan's socked feet as well.

"What's up?"

"What time did she call you?"

"We talked for like half an hour," Joey yawned, "so subtract or whatever."

"So that means she doesn't have work tomorrow," he suddenly chuckled. "Meaning she has no excuse and has to help me with that service project."

"And you were lecturing me about ticking her off?" Joey laughed but stopped when Tristan jerked his head toward Yugi's sleeping form.

"Where was she anyways? She always goes to bed on time."

"Had to help some girlfriend out, drama with a guy, whatever. It was a crappy story, didn't pay attention." Joey twisted his mouth and reached for the remote.

-.-.-.-.-

Her purse was digging into her side, jutting into her abdomen and she was choking, suffocating as he pushed down on her, pulling off her clothes and she didn't have enough breath to protest.

Everything was black but there were beautiful colors like red and white splashed over her vision and her aching limbs shuddered, wanting to rest rather than to move, to hit and punch and try to save her. Her body was a broken traitor and her mind was numb, her head knocked against the pavement too many times, her neck crushed under his elbow, her feet sprained under his heavy boots.

His breath was so heavy and it was like a cloud over the right side of her face and the pollution was soaking into her pores and tainting her breath. It was sending electrical impulses to block her senses and her instincts and the message to her brain was **stop** **stop** **it** **will** **be** **over** **soon**.

**stop stop dont worry**.

**it will be over soon**.

**just let me in for a little while**.

-.-.-.-.-

"It's from Téa," Tristan mumbled groggily in the dark. He handed it to Joey with one eye half-open.

Joey glanced over at his phone. It lit up, the one light in the room, name in black block text across the screen and the small machine buzzed importantly. He considered not answering, then Tristan's foot shoved his with an annoyed grumble to shut it up and he sighed heavily.

He lifted it up to his ear, closing his eyes and he murmured her name.

There was no noise at first.

A little wind faded in and then a weird soft sound filled his ears. Like a lot of static, as if something was being rubbed back and forth over and over and there was a muffled conversation. Joey exhaled in frustration. She had obviously accidentally called him.

Then he heard it.

"Téa?" he whispered and he felt his eyes open and legs move without asking them to.

The clock silently proclaimed 12:10 and in the dark, his skin prickled and he felt a shadow behind the phone, something whispering and someone was crying, and it was all a jumbled cacophony, muted by distance. He pushed the phone closer to his ear and he heard it again, an animalistic, desperate cry of pain, as if some creature had been exposed to something painful to the point that their screams were nearly silent.

His throat was dry and he tried not to cough, tried not to swallow. She wasn't answering him.

"Téa? Téa…?"

He couldn't hear her voice.

"…Téa?"

-.-.-.-.-

He was waiting for me, she thought, feeling not empty but full, as he left her, pulling on his pants with a smirk and kicking aside her purse and phone before jogging away.

He had taken so long to pin her hands down, to throw her phone aside, to move her bag, so that she was flat against the ground and he could rip her nicely apart. He made no idle conversation and he was so business-like that he left his own chill to float about her in the cold, wintry dark.

He was so cruel, she realized, tears slipping down her face and she would have made a sound if there was anything left inside her other than venom and poison and a disgusting greed that was painted over her like damnation. He had not bothered covering her mouth but she had nothing to say, nothing to tell, and he knew that he could take her, split her in two and she was quite alone.

She was so weak, so useless, there was nothing she could do. All her practice, all the defined muscles, all the exact movements, and it took no time at all for her to fall and for him to squeeze her into submission. He was so rough and hostile and her body was still shrieking for mercy, wanting to know why it was open and stretched and bleeding and why she wasn't moving or doing anything to save herself.

She turned and stared at her phone. She had no strength to reach for it.

-.-.-.-.-

Joey wasn't sure where he was but he kept running anyways and he stumbled over his own feet, a hungry fear clawing at his chest. It wanted to relax, his heart wanted to be calmed but he was frightened, so scared that he forgot to wake the others and he just left in a panic.

He ran by her house and knew she wasn't there. He ran towards the metro railway and looked into the deep black of the alleys separating the buildings. He ran back and forth and running finally exhausted him to the point where he dropped to his knees, about to throw an empty stomach up.

"Téa!" He called out, gasping heavily.

-.-.-.-.-

She heard him and her eyes opened. Her lips parted but her voice box was crushed, her lips were bleeding and bruised and her tongue was swollen and bitten.

But she still smiled and she looked to her left and tried to say his name, tried to tell him that she was waiting for him. That she didn't mind that he was late, that she had his face inscribed over her pupils because the shadows that crept inside with the black one had such awful images that she wanted to cry.

Joey, she whispered, and she was so happy he was there that she did not notice she made no sound.

-.-.-.-.-

When he finally found her, he didn't look at her. The light of his cell-phone screen was dim but he was already choking from the smell, the scent of blood and vomit and a stench of pain that drew water from his eyes.

He looked down and saw her and he stood still. He took a breath.

He was afraid to breathe back out. He didn't want to feel it, feel the gnawing suspicion from a strange sound over the phone turn into fact, a truth and reality was now sprawled before him.

He tried to talk but one word morphed into a sob and he was suddenly crying so hard that his shoulders shook and tears dropped down onto her.

Her eyes opened and met his.

He dropped down, crouching so that his lips were inches from her muddied face.

"Hey, hey," he sung hoarsely, dialing without looking, with twitching thumbs, "hey there. Hey Téa, I'm here. I'm here, I'm here…"

She waited until he was done choking out information, hearing a name, a location, a state of body she did not recognize. All she looked at was the golden shine of his hair. He shook his head and she realized that she was so thirsty, so thirsty and she wanted to see his eyes again, to drink them up.

He dropped the phone, hand quivering.

Look at me, she whispered. Please?

He gulped down tainted air and shook his head slowly, quietly.

Please?

"Hey," she croaked.

-.-.-.-.-

Joey looked up.

Téa smiled.

-.-.-.-.-

When they found them, they saw a boy with his lips pressed to a girl's forehead as if he had stayed that way for a very long time.

_

* * *

A/N:_

_With this piece, I have discovered that rape is the most sensitive thing to write about...even moreso than murder. There's just something so completely inhuman about fulfilling a personal need by hurting someone both on the inside and outside and then running away, not even thinking about your actions. There's no way to excuse such crimes and I personally have no pity for such criminals._

_I don't know how I feel about this piece...I was listening to a number of depressing songs and trying to create a depressing situation but the only thing I definitely know is that I have written all that I needed to. I hope it's ok, it was very strange to write but I've got nothing left to put in! I always write such downer stuff...next piece will be happy, I promise!_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	23. no return address,,,Magic

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.62.** ([ Magic ])

* * *

Pick-me-ups -+ (was that was he was getting?) -+ involve alcohol.

{{{Technically, being around punch and fruity drinks and Coronas could make this definition count. But this was different.}}}

She smiled at him, beckoned him over for the fourth time ! and when he shook his head for the tenth, she shrugged and continued dancing like a heart pulsing with euphoria !

Highs -+ (but he wasn't even breathing, let alone inhaling anything) -+ involve smoke.

{{{All the haze was from the gyrating bodies and their evaporating sweat.}}}

None of the words he knew made sense_His thought process was shot_He started wondering if her movements could count as abstract poetry.

She bobbed her head up and down, twisting her mouth into a pursed kiss ! winking at him and laughing.

He wasn't exactly cheerful, or happy, or seduced_There was nothing relatively positive or negative, no connation, and no context to assign_Since when had he been so silently unsure?

She twirled her way over and he forgot to step aside so she bumped into him, her waves crashing through him and his gaze wavered. He couldn't hear her voice over the synth-beats pouring like heated relentless mumbled syllables from the speakers. He watched her lips move ! saw her ignore the vodka glass passed at her, and turned to him, sighing with eyes bright !

'Come **on**!'

He wanted to say no, but he was very confused_He was in a situation he had never been in_He was all alone and maybe he was vulnerable without seasoned or speculating wisdom on what it was he was feeling.

{{{Would even the other guys know what to do? Know what to say? Know how to refuse?}}}

'Let's **go**!'

He didn't even know if he wanted to say no_He thought for a moment, that it was fine just to watch.

'**Joey**!'

Then she moved her hips in a strangely fluid move, face lit, hand holding onto his ! and his body asked his mind as he started walking to let him try, too.

Inhibitions -+ DON'T HAVE THEM. -+ lost through alcohol "whatdoido" found under ecstasy's spell +- I STOPPED THAT. +- Experimentation

He was smart enough to know all these weird facts_But watching her move wasn't a drug_It was as if she was spun from a spool of magic and let loose like a top to dance with arms up, hair flashing about her cheeks.

'I'll teach **you**!'

He raised his hands and he began to move towards her, awkwardly, eagerly, entranced.

'Like **that**!'

She laughed again and every pixel of the intoxicating, psychedelic dream image shattered around him.

* * *

_A/N:_

_This is definitely the weirdest thing I've written. o.o But...I'm oddly proud of it and didn't change it at all...the weird style and very weird plotline are served fresh here! XD; If you guys don't like it, perfectly understandable...as I'm typing this, I'm wondering whether to rewrite it or not...but whatever! This freaky stupid stuff was inspired slightly from Lights' "Quiet" so blame her and her pretty music for this mess! x)_

_And I promised a happy piece...will this do? I think my definition of 'happy' needs rewriting! ;O_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	24. no return address,,,Rejection

love letters addressed to anonymous

* * *

**.41.** ([ Rejection ])

* * *

Somehow it had transferred to her. She wasn't quite sure how or even when, but it took one isolated incident and suddenly she was the go-to-girl for all matters that befell the lonely male adolescent's heart. She was definitely not sure if it had begun as a stupid joke or a sincere effort to screw her over but now every guy was referring all his buddies to her and she was literally being tracked. Who would have even assumed that _she_ was one to impart knowledge about how to seduce a girl and how to strip correctly and how to all this other stuff that was collecting into a self-disassembling litany?

She hadn't even had a proper date since middle school. There had been that one incident in freshman year but that had been such a failure, simply mentioning it would contradict her supposedly God-like wisdom.

So now every sophomore in their school was busy signing up for made-up appointments for her made-up clinic sessions – well, every sophomore bar three. Joey laughed it off until his sides were convulsing, Tristan simply ruffled her hair, dodging a death glare, and Yugi fidgeted, seemingly fine apart from the telltale hard line of a mouth. They didn't seem to care that she had such a responsibility – they just thought it was odd she was dealing with guys.

Truth be told, Téa was quite relieved no girl had broken down and asked her – boys were easier to talk to, easier to reason with, easier to sympathize with overall. Sure there was a hell-load of testosterone and a smaller head doing most of their thinking but boys were open and even when she was cruising on a sea of BS, hoping not to slip off the make-shift raft, the guys' sincere efforts to get a girl made her reluctance fade away ever so slowly. She discovered that their dedication had expiration dates, but there was no drama and manipulation behind the scenes. The boys were all in the quest together.

But why her? Yugi came up with explanation when the group had gone out for milkshakes and found the guys of their town studying him and Joey through appreciative duelist-fan eyes. Their gaze veered slightly off track and there was Téa, bantering with them, in control, not threatened and smiling as if she was their best friend.

Which, Tristan concluded, is what they didn't realize you are.

And so now a notorious reputation had begun swirling around her like a halo – the ultimate duelist magnet, the one even Seto Kaiba acknowledged, albeit reluctantly like most of the creatures occupying breathing space around him. She was the girl with finesse and the body of a dancing angel, last year's top class representative who had always chatted up guys as if they were transparent people, devoid of bad comb-overs, pimples, obvious hickeys from desperate exes.

You're a guru or something, Joey muttered as they passed by guys staring intently at Téa who was doing her best to avoid their probing eyes. I wonder how many of them are in it for the girls or for the guy duelists - hey, you never know! They're groupies anyways.

And so every informal break or so (not even the official seven minute ones to walk to next period) a cluster would progress slowly down the hall, encircling her as she gave five second answers to eager students with little understanding of verbal tone. Over time, the population thinned out to a regular group of boys and even some of the frequent latch-ons would decrease email flow. The popular boys paid her a visit only once, max twice, not needing to ruin their social statuses and chances with the snide, curvy cheerleaders. The attention had trickled down to a concentrated mass at the bottom.

The rejects love you, Duke had snickered when he learned of this development and she would have smacked him had she not whole-heartedly and silently agreed. At the same time, the constantly refilling well of pity inside her kept raising buckets of inspiration and she couldn't stop from blurting out a random tip or strange come-on line.

Rejection, bad sex, break-ups, hook-ups, good sex, we were in love sex, sex addicts, cheating, emotional cheating, physical cheating, the cheating that's really not cheating, it might be rape, back-stabbing, social border crossing, kinky sex, STDs, mistake sex, hung-over sex, it was too fast sex, foreplay, just plain sex, what even is sex – that was her life outside the classroom within the school parameters.

Had she been coaching girls, her lessons would have been squared with thousands of additional factors like "did I do this right, does he love me, do I play hard-to-get, etc." and the gossip would be tripping her over, too. But the normal guys soliciting advice didn't worry about long-term effects, only for the short ride to the girl's car/room/bed, so she had little work to do. More effort was put into avoiding girls distressed over the rising number of public hit-ons and one-liners.

Her new job made her wonder if any of the information she shared was relevant to the three, soon four, now slowly five boys she was close to. She imagined possible scenarios - Bakura would be the boy asking who goes first as if it was a game, Duke would just want to hear sizes, Tristan would be after kinky stories, Yugi would simply ask her not to mention anything and Joey…

Joey was a bit harder to figure out. He was the perverted one, who she caught poring over porn magazines and stumbled upon watching an illegal tape with a sort of twisted and hilarious fixed fascination. He wouldn't stare at girls consciously for long, embarrassed by himself, but that didn't stop him from dozing off in class, staring at a pair of breasts. But, from first-hand experience, Téa knew very well that Joey felt awkward making out with girls and he utterly failed at flirting. He sympathized so much with the unlucky story-tellers who confided in coming too quickly or making out with the wrong girl that any story, success or failure, would be of no interest to him.

In fact, Joey would most likely ask about how the girl would respond and if there was a rejection in his future. He'd treat it most sensitively, not because he was afraid of talking about it, but because he was bold enough to discuss it. He'd be strange and weird and tangential and shy and his eyes would bat curiously at her when he'd fail to keep up. But he wasn't like Yugi who'd simply concentrate on catering to his dream-girl's every whim – he was too hormone overworked and romantically-challenged. He'd need lessons just on making sure the girl trusted him to remember Valentine's Day.

Téa's reserves of patience and expertise were slowly being spent but at mid-year's mark, the tide began to ebb. The days were passing so quickly by third quarter that the decreasing number of disciples went unnoticed until Téa realized that no more boys were hovering about her locker. Her boys said nothing but she sensed their delight at her eventual return and their renewed chance to pass algebra and English. Then finally, there came the day when she had been cast out of vogue and no boy looked to her for suggestions and the group sighed collectively with relief.

Just a day later, she tugged Joey aside and asked if he would ever have asked her for help.

There was the thing that happened last year, he began uncomfortably but he interrupted himself with a shake of the head. Well no, I wouldn't. You're too nice to tell the truth and you hardly flirt. Besides, the guys bugging you were in the closet over their obsession for macho duelists.

She rolled her eyes, her heart flopping in a weird pattern and she suddenly grabbed him as he walked by her again.

Would I look unavailable to you? None of those guys were interested in me…not that I'm complaining but, it's kind of-

Joey laughed and Téa realized she had switched places and had come to him for advice. What had made her do that? Maybe hanging out with so many desperate boys had rubbed off on her.

Nah, those guys knew they just didn't have a chance with you, he shrugged and her heart rose. Don't worry, you're cute, he added and she looked up, smiling gratefully, momentary regret fading away.

* * *

_A/N:_

_This idea came out of nowhere - I just started typing the first words with an image of Téa tutoring boys which morphed into her teaching guys how to flirt with girls XD;; I had to assign some special significance to Joey but along the way, I dropped a hint of something in their past history that will be revealed in the current story arc I will be resuming soon ;D I don't know if this is even humorous but it was fun to write!_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	25. no return address,,,Childhood

love letters addressed to anonymous

* * *

.**48**. ([ Childhood ])

* * *

"Is that you and Serenity?" Téa asked, a small smile playing about her parted lips.

"Yeah, at the playground in the park," Joey shrugged, the faint blush glowing on his cheeks giving away his pride.

"It's adorable," she relented and finally grinned, her annoyance at the remark he had said a few hours ago slowly dissipating.

He glanced up, met her eyes, and took a breath.

"So what did you draw?"

Téa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew he would have apologized had he not looked up but Joey was silly like that, and luckily for him, she was nice enough to let it pass.

"I made it up actually. I don't really remember my childhood memories that well," she explained sheepishly, handing him her thick vanilla drawing paper. He stared at it for a moment and she swung her legs back and forth, watching other students gather their bags and prepare to leave the classroom. Yugi and Tristan had gone to clean up in the bathroom and Bakura was going to meet them as soon as French class ended.

"So you never had a puppy?" Joey asked, eyebrows raised as he glanced back at her.

Téa bit her lip. "Well at least I'm pretty sure I never did. I think I'd remember something like that…"

"What, hit your head on something and got amnesia?" He joked. Téa shifted around uncomfortably on the desk and looked down at her hands. In the artificial fluorescent light from ceiling bulbs and with the shadow of rainfall from the window, they looked too pale, too small.

"I don't really remember much. I don't know why," she bit her lip, looking up with questioning eyes she knew Joey would not read. "I have a theory," and she started to laugh awkwardly, "but it sounds stupid and probably doesn't even make sense. But well, life was boring before you guys came and I think," she ran her hands through her hair, "I think I replaced the old stuff with new memories. I mean, my mind can only have so much excitement, right?"

Her fingers got caught in a tangle and she combed it out slowly. When she looked back, Joey was quiet, observing, almost studying her.

"Yeah, I don't believe that." Annoyance twisted inside Téa and she huffed, crossing her legs.

"I think you just don't pay enough attention to the past. I mean, I know plenty of stuff that happened to you."

"What?" She started to laugh.

"You went to SeaWorld when you were like five, and before you moved here, you went to the biggest deli shop every Sunday. It's all in your photo-albums."

"I think it was Saturday."

"Yeah, and you had an epic collection of Beanie Babies-"

"But they got lost in the moving van."

"And you started taking point classes or whatever at some academy-"

"And I met Yoori there," Téa murmured subconsciously, thinking of her first close-to-best-friend who moved away during middle school.

"I especially remember all the embarrassing baby pictures," he chuckled and Téa glared warningly at him. "Hey, you were a pretty baby, that's what I was gonna say."

"Sure," she dragged out the word, the corners of her mouth itching to turn up. Something about Joey remembering what she should was tempting a belly-aching laugh.

"See?" Joey was now smirking and he interlocked his fingers behind his head, reclining on a tipped chair. "You know everything silly, you just forget it from time to time. Probably 'cause we're always distracting you," he added and Téa clicked her tongue with a knowing nod.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I didn't mean to interrupt your practice, it was an accident-"

"I know, I know," Téa giggled. He stared at her in bewilderment. "I'm forgiving you easily this time because you reminded me about old things I totally forgot about. Don't expect it again."

Joey flashed her a smile and a thumbs up. He looked like a dork and she shook her head with fond amusement. Somehow, it reminded her of her favorite photo, the first one he, Yugi and Tristan had taken with her at the end of freshman year.

Posing with weird faces, silly poses and happy smiles.

_

* * *

_

_A/N:_

_I don't know why, but I thought it would be interesting to write a piece on how, despite having the most normal life, and the happiest one at that, compared to the boys, Téa doesn't remember many childhood memories. I thought it would also be cute to have Joey remember such things, like her past is something special for him, too. :) I'm trying to write a kiss shot because these two are so hot and I haven't given them any action yet so stay tuned for that!_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	26. miscellaneous notes,,,Under the Rain

love letters addressed to anonymous

* * *

.**30**. ([ Under the Rain ])

* * *

She had warned her not to look but she knew Téa couldn't help it. The man's shouts were too loud to ignore and Sani herself desperately wanted to rescue the frightened boy cowering under his glare, mute in shock. Téa shivered as the man snatched up the boy's small hand, shaking it with white knuckles. Like the other bystanders, Sani tried to ignore them and the voice in her head commanding her to stop the infuriated man.

The grocery bag lying between them was suddenly lifted on a sudden gust of wind and the man paused his lecture to watch it fly over the street. The peaches and apples the boy had accidentally dropped lay ruined on the sidewalk. Under the rain, the vivid splash of color brightened up the grey setting but Sani knew her silent pleas to quiet the father were painting her perspective optimistic. Her granddaughter clung to her skirt, watching from the safety of the umbrella as the boy shivered beside his father, face red and eyes downcast. Sani could only guess it was his father. In a day and age where correcting a parent is a sin, none of the people around the man could tell or ask if the boy was really his to reprimand.

The cars on the road slowed to a halt, showering a few droplets over their shoes and Sani tugged Téa's hand to move her forward. She heard another comment from the man and bit her lip to keep her thoughts inside. A sudden flash of movement turned her head and she saw the boy had ripped himself from the man's grip and was darting down the crosswalk. The man began running towards him, bellowing a stream of curses. Sani shook her head sadly and tightened her grip around Téa 's hand but stopped when the child refused to move. She glanced back and saw that Téa was crying, shoulders quivering.

Téa was the kind of child who found birds with broken wings and kids crying in the mall without their mothers. She had a keen maternal instinct that got her into trouble as often as she saved others from it. One day, Sani always complained to her embarrassed daughter and her husband, she would get herself into a situation there would be no way out of, and it would be because she just had to meddle. Saving people was one thing, endangering yourself was another.

Crying was just as bad as being slapped and screamed at because a day was spent after either trying to restore a lost smile. And now Téa had seen a child hurt by his own father run away and she didn't know where he'd go and if he'd be alright. Sani crouched, her knees creaking, and started to brush the tears away.

"T-th-that boy needed help! Why was- no one was helping him Nana!"

A pang echoed through her chest, reminding her that hiding guilt from the innocent was the worst crime of all.

"You can't save everyone in this world, dear," Sani said, distress underlining every word. "When you grow up, you will be older and stronger and wiser. Then, you can help many more people. But there are days and times when interfering in other people's lives will hurt you."

"We should have-should have run a-after him-"

"And if something happened to you, what will happen to me?"

Téa's brow wrinkled as she resumed sobbing and without another word, Sani smoothed back her hair and then took her hand, standing up with effort. They slowly began to cross, the drivers allowing them to pass although the light had flashed green a moment before.

"Nana?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"Will he be okay?"

Sani glanced down at Téa, her young face stiff although the rain had washed away the dried trails of tears.

"Yes dear. I'm sure he is," she whispered. Téa said nothing more and Sani knew the girl didn't believe her.

_

* * *

_

_A/N:_

_Yes, I'm so nice that I posted another piece for you guys. :) In return, I want reviews...pretty please? I see all these hits and not very many reviews (everyone who has reviewed, I love you!) so can I please read your comments? I want to see what you guys think! :D_

_Anyways, I started writing this because I love/hate the "two destined people met when they were children" idea. When done properly, it should have significance but avoid the whole "it was fate" thing. And since I wrote in the first arc piece that Téa and Joey actually met when he bumped into her in the hallway, I knew that as kids, they would have no cutesy interaction. So I wrote this ;) _

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	27. no return address,,,Test

love letters addressed to anonymous

* * *

.**77**. ([ Test ])

* * *

"Oh look, that's the first guy I kissed!" Téa suddenly exclaimed and Yugi promptly began choking on his milkshake. Tristan hurriedly slapped him on the back and Joey whirled about, peering behind their booth, searching the café before looking back at her with wide eyes.

"No way, you've actually kissed someone? You were only pretending to be a frickin' prude?"

"Oh, it was back in like second grade," Téa waved her hand to the side as if the detail wasn't important. "He's here in the paper. Apparently he got a really important scholarship for university." Her brows rose with interest.

"You kissed someone in first grade?" Tristan looked over at Joey who was gritting his teeth. "We didn't even kiss anyone that early!"

"So you _have_ kissed girls? I thought some of you were already experienced?" Téa asked, blinking curiously with an innocent smile before laughing at Joey's narrowed-eye glare. "Well yeah, it was _second_ grade and I was _eight_. Why are you acting like I committed a crime or something?" She tilted her head with a smile, her eyes hard.

"What's his name?" Yugi ventured nervously, unsure of what was going on, but he was cut off by Joey's angry spluttering.

"You were the one who said kissing is something special and you're supposed to save it or some crap!" Téa rolled her eyes and set down the paper. "And you tell us that sex is supposed to happen after marriage-"

"Kissing a boy does not mean the same thing as me having…you know what!" She gestured vaguely, chewing on her lip with vigor. She took a breath and in the silence, Tristan and Yugi noticed her trembling hand.

"Why are you so upset anyways?" Her voice was higher now and Tristan and Yugi looked at one another with fear. Something had happened before they met up at the café, and the red over both Téa and Joey's faces meant it was something serious.

"I'm not upset," Joey suddenly sat back casually, voice under control, although Yugi and Tristan could both tell he was clearly affronted. He looked at Tristan who was doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone but Yugi. "Why would I be upset?"

"Are you jealous?" Téa cupped her cheek with a slender hand, the last word heavy with emphasis.

"Why would I be jealous?" Joey leaned forward, voice low. "I'm not the one who gave away something _precious_ like that in first grade."

"It was _second_!" Tea stood, snatching up her bag. Yugi and Tristan gaped in silence at one another as Joey grinned cheekily, his eyes fixed on Téa's.

"And what precious thing? I still have my pride! Maybe if you weren't so busy whoring yourself out, you'd remember to not be so judgmental!" She snapped and Yugi and Tristan flinched, hastily trying to suck down empty glasses of vanilla shake. Joey's grin twisted into a tight, uneasy smirk and he stood slowly.

"I'm not the one who started the whoring in first grade," Joey's eyes flashed.

"It was second!" Téa kicked his foot aside, facing him with her chin up. "And you're calling me a _slut_?"

"I'm calling that dude one! And look at you! Now it's gotten real bad in freshman year, huh?"

Téa shoved him to the side and began walking quickly to the exit. Joey clenched his fists.

"And Miss-I'm-so-not-judgmental, you should keep your opinions to yourself!"

Téa didn't bother turning around and Joey sat back down, muttering darkly under his breath.

"Joey?" Yugi's eyes flickered from his tall glass to Tristan's frown.

"What the hell. What just happened," Tristan looked back over his shoulder to see Téa open the door with such force that the hinges cracked. Yugi waited for another moment and then looked at Joey from the corner of his eye.

"She's just angry that her boyfriend's a douche," Joey spat, running a hand through his hair. "Refuses to believe me when I tell her he's cheating-"

"He isn't, Joey," Yugi said gently. "None of them were…"

"Yug, he is! And I try to prove it every time. It's why none of them stay with her, or maybe she's the one chasing them away," he laughed bitterly. "You won't believe the crap this afternoon, the whole thing-" he sputtered heatedly, unable to finish. "And then she goes to accuse me of being a man-whore and doing stuff with random chicks-"

Tristan closed his eyes with a groan.

"You need to stop doing whatever and let it go man. Téa knows who she wants to date and damn it, you need to get off her case. First you were hounding her to date Yug," Yugi ducked his head, blushing, "and then it didn't matter, no one she chose was good enough. If we've all let this then go you need to, too."

"She's an idiot! He's such a douche-"

"You're the douche! She's only lashing out at you 'cause she knows you're too irrational to listen to her!"

"She never admits I'm right!"

"All these excuses, lame-as-"

"I'm going." Joey grabbed his jacket, bumping into three other customers as he walked the long way out.

"What the hell," Tristan laughed weakly. "I didn't understand a word of that, did you?" Yugi shook his head, not saying anything until a few minutes later when Tristan pulled his sweater on with a sigh. He glanced up, eyes bright.

"Well let's hope tomorrow they ain't PMSing this bad," Tristan winked. "We only have like two days left of spring break so she needs to calm down-"

"You don't think-" Yugi started, then bit his lip. Tristan watched him carefully. "Is this maybe all just a test they're putting themselves through?"

"To see how mad they get at each other? 'Cause they're both acing it."

"No…to see how long they can go before it becomes obvious," Yugi answered quietly. He dropped the spoon he had been gripping and gazed out the window. The booth felt too cramped all of a sudden, even though Téa and Joey had left and there was plenty of room to stretch out on. The clock ticked cheerfully away above them.

"Obvious…?" Tristan's eyes grew round and he inhaled sharply. "Holy…Yugi you don't think-?"

Yugi shrugged, eyes lowered.

"Damn it. They like each other, don't they?"

* * *

_A/N:_

_So I was writing this shot with the idea "Téa and Joey finally kiss!" which turned into"Téa remembers her first kiss and the boys get jealous/protective" which turned into "Téa remembers her first kiss and Joey gets oddly jealous" which turned into "Téa remembers her first kiss to provoke Joey because both of them are jealous." XD;; Yes, my active writing mind is super sporadic!_

_As I was writing this, I thought to myself that the two might seem OC but then I realized that a Joey who doesn't want to admit he likes Téa and a Téa who doesn't want to even think about liking Joey would act like this. It actually reminded me of Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter but these two are cooler than them :) And this is taking place when the gang is out of high school, during college spring break (which I'm on!) and it's so much fun writing them as older kids that I definitely will write more shots like this :P  
_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	28. miscellaneous notes,,,Expectations

love letters addressed to anonymous

* * *

**.33.** ([ Expectations ])

* * *

Atticus Gardner was not a strict man. He trusted his daughter when she said she'd be coming home late. When she said she was going to a party where there'd be no alcohol and drugs, he knew she was telling the truth. And because he didn't bother following her, calling her, tracking her calls and yelling at her about bills and responsibility and the dangers of life like other fathers, she never got into trouble and came home smiling like the little girl he kept thinking he could hold onto forever.

But Atticus wasn't stupid. He could rely on his daughter to be smart and say no at the right times and to keep up her grades while she trained relentlessly for recitals and performances on school-nights. He could guarantee, without checking up on her the entire week, that she'd do her chores and help out her mother with shopping and bank accounts. But what he couldn't be sure of at any point in time was that the boys she hung out with would even come close to doing the same.

They were gangly and tall for the most part, although the one that was short and small according to his dependable daughter was also the sweetest one of the group. His hair turned heads and kept all eyes fixed on the explosion of color and spikes, but after she assured him the boy was good, he took to wondering if the leather pants and chains and collars were a declaration of sexual orientation deviance instead. The other boys were normal-looking but the blond one had a loud and vulgar mouth and the pencil-headed one was bossy and sneaky and a typical enabler. The one with white hair had a suspicious accent Atticus didn't buy as British along with a weak, effeminate nature, and the eye-liner and earring-wearing punk was too smooth and too smart for Atticus to feel completely at ease around.

His daughter was sweet and gentle and she kept away from drama and social circle black holes and he knew she'd never do drugs, have alcohol, have sex or by extension, get pregnant. The worst she could do was in science class and those grades were average still and so, easily forgiven. And because she was the perfect child, Atticus was reluctant to talk to her about her best friends.

Her mother didn't mind them from the beginning and thought they were all charming and adorable and she laughed at their daughter's attempts to mother them. Atticus tried explaining the many dangers and risks of hanging around one-track-mind boys but his wife would stare at him, unconvinced, and he'd back off halfheartedly. Back then, the short and blond and pencil-headed ones were the only boys he had to worry about, but he knew they were bad company when his child was shipped off to a godforsaken island to deal with a megalomaniac obsessed with underage children in an international competition about a strange card game. The night she returned, he sent her to her room without a single word, just a small gesture that meant 'I know this was a one-time occurrence so I won't waste my breath lecturing you.'

But it turned out that her friends really were magnets for trouble and the adventures only got worse with evil masterminds and future dominators and power-hungry tyrants who wanted to kill and enslave all of the world's people, including a sweet brunette who scored a perfect on the SAT. There were many reasons and excuses as to why his daughter had to skip school and why she had been involved in dangerous world-ending activities but absolutely none of her friends' shenanigans were credible enough to be listed as extracurriculars. He bit back exasperated cries of distress and watched from afar as she dealt with heartbreak and friendship and endeavors that depended on card-playing skills.

And her mother just shook her head and told him that the only two dangers they needed to worry about was when their girl would realize she liked one of the boys and when she'd have to separate from them. Needless to say, Atticus ignored his wife's arguments, deeming them too ridiculously mundane.

Atticus wasn't cruel but he desperately wished the boys could vanish, could somehow get up and walk out of his door and never return, just leaving him and his small house alone. He wanted the days back when his kitchen wasn't frequently trashed and when boys didn't stampede up and down his stairs and when he was the sole occupant of the living room and sole silent viewer of games on his prized plasma.

The trouble, his wife pointed out blearily one evening after the kids had departed, was really only with one of them. And Atticus realized she was right – it was the blond one.

The other boys respected his daughter and listened to her, most of the times anyways, and Atticus felt proud seeing them follow her instructions and directions and her harried warnings when she spotted him stomping down, face red. But the blond one, Joey as she kept reminding him, was a problem child. He had untreated ADHD and frequently blurted out strange, long-winded curses that were imaginative at the very least. He stood on the furniture and yelled all the time, excited at everything and anything remotely interesting. His daughter was patient and kind but Atticus was not, and all the general distaste was beginning to ferment into single-minded hate.

There was no use in barring him at the door. The blond continued to sneak in through windows with the pack and taunt his daughter and lecture her on not being wild and free and he was insolent and egotistical. There was nothing good in him, he reminded his wife daily and she just smirked as she got ready for bed. There was nothing good in him, he tried reminding his daughter once, but she was strangely defensive and almost snapped when he tried to ban him from visiting. She marched up to her room when he barked that his word was final and stayed quiet at the dinner table until he read the 'Dennis the Menace' strip in the paper and she tried her best to swallow down a smile.

If it makes her happy, let her be around him, her mother winked and he sighed and relented, as usual.

Then, for a few weeks, he was a no show and the house was intact for a record length of time. The others trooped by but they didn't stay for long and something like graduation hung over their heads as they walked in and out, shuffling and mumbling more to themselves than to each other. About time they grew up, Atticus grinned and settled into his chair but his wife hesitated by the door and his daughter simply blinked back at her computer screen.

Atticus thought he had nothing left to worry about until the day came when he trotted downstairs and found his daughter sitting by herself on the countertop, her daily glass of orange juice untouched beside her. Her eyes were glazed and she looked as if she wasn't quite there and Atticus backed up, holding his breath, feeling the absence as acutely as she.

Days went by, his wife started travelling upstairs into their daughter's room more often, and no more young male voices floated about the house. Atticus prided himself on knowing the two women in his life inside and out but the shock of realizing he missed something about himself came like a swift strike between the eyes. His life was no longer complete without screaming until he was hoarse at boys with bulging cheeks darting out of his kitchen. Moments of silence meant to come as pauses before earthquake-like shakes and rattles turned into long gaping stretches in the day. Whatever had unraveled and broken between his daughter and her band had somehow touched him too, and something like desperation urged him to pick up the phone and dial a number he never thought he'd look for.

When he returned, hair cut, voice clipped, a blond with a sharp, adult face, Atticus almost didn't let him in. His daughter came up behind him but was oddly quiet and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he should close the door on the boy and on the situation brewing into a confrontation. Maybe he didn't know her as well as he liked to believe.

The blond didn't really speak, looking absolutely dumbfounded, mouth slightly open, and his daughter stared back coolly. Atticus was about to leave altogether when his daughter pushed him aside, opened her mouth -

And nothing came out. The three of them stood in silence, the blond awkwardly alternating between staring at a girl trying her best not to cry and glancing at his mud-streaked sneakers. Another minute ticked by and suddenly there was a crack and she started blubbering, the tears trickling down at a speed that was beyond alarming. She stood there, glaring and quietly hiccupping, eyes red and shining when the blond stepped forward and wrapped her up in his arms, saying nothing but just pulling her closer than Atticus would normally have allowed.

Atticus was not an emotional man. He never cried while watching movies and had maintained a hard, unmoving face at every funeral he had attended. It would be a lie to call himself sensitive and so he never did.

But his daughter was the only one he knew he'd ever cry for. She was precious and his darling little girl and despite never knowing how to comfort her, he would move in and pat her on the back and whisper words of encouragement that she accepted, nonsensical though they were. She had disappeared in the mall one day, trying to guide another smaller child back to his mother and Atticus, running the length of the department store on all sides, felt his vision blur from something other than fatigue. She had crashed the car once, just a few days after she received her license, and went to the hospital only as a precaution, but no amount of consolation or repetition of 'she's ok' kept his eyes from conjuring up tears.

His daughter stood there, wrapped up in the arms of a boy he still didn't like very much. He couldn't see her face and could only hope she had ceased her crying…but even if she hadn't, he was surprised to feel relief at knowing she didn't have to. He watched the blond press his mouth to her ear and whisper something he couldn't make out, and he knew right then that his own expectations were the wrong things to judge the boy by.

Atticus swallowed down a cough, made his way quietly up the stairs and found his wife sitting on their bed, folding his socks. She looked up, saw his face and her own broke into a smile.

"I told you, didn't I?"

"Yeah…he's a good kid."

* * *

_A/N:_

_Wow...it's been literally forever since I updated this story! I honestly forgot how much fun I have while writing shots for these two, and I will definitely be updating more often! __I'm pretty proud of this piece, it was great to imagine __Téa's home life and how the boys intersect. Before I restart my writing on the current arc, I am determined to write a kiss shot...wish me luck, it's really hard to do for some reason with __Téa and Joey! XD;;  
_

_And to anyone who reads this, mind dropping a comment? It really is great motivation and I'd love to hear what you guys think!  
_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	29. no return address,,,Innocence

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.8.** ([ Innocence ])

* * *

She looked like a princess. He couldn't remember how to breathe or blink as she strode forward, wisps of hair settling around her pale, glittering temples and lashes thick and curled falling over startling wide blue eyes. She extended her hand to take his and air cold and heavy rushed into his lungs as he inhaled for what seemed like the first time in ages.

"Joey you made it!" She grasped his hands close to her chest but his eyes didn't move, locked in a gaze over her smile, broad and white and enchanting. "I would hug you but I'm sweating so badly right now!"

"I-It's ok…it's alright-"

"What did you think?" She moved as if she was still dancing, head turning slightly to the side, shoulders curving out, her whole body trembling with anticipation and yet poised and composed.

"You did awesome- I mean, it was- you did really great." He could only seem to stutter, his tongue like lead in his dry mouth but she laughed and stepped closer, her earrings like baubles of light, her skin glowing, her entire form shining with a radiance that seeped through his shabby suit and worn tie, right into his heart that swung, panicked, in his constricted chest.

"You don't understand how happy I am that you came-" She stopped and turned back and all the light churned out for a moment and he was left standing unsteady and not ready for the absence of overwhelming warmth. Girls were calling out to her, her troupe, fairy dancers awaiting their queen.

"Time for the last bow, you know, encore thing," she was breathless and he forgot to move away, to say that she should go and so she stood there for just a little longer, watching him with a strange and unsettling look in her bright eyes, innocence painted over her moon-like face.

"I wanted you all to see my first show here you know," she began, her voice now gentle and weaving in and out of the chorus of congratulations echoing around them, "I thought it'd be the perfect reunion after so long…"

"Well I made it." He felt his cheeks flush and he looked down, trying to remember how to breathe and blink again.

"Yes and thank you! I'll see you really soon, ok?" She let go of his hands and took his face with her own, and she kissed him, briefly, softly, and then broke away, her smile and eyes unchanged and unmoving. She laughed as she hurried back to where the other girls were waiting, where everyone else was waiting for her, where she would leave all present with one last glimpse of her beautiful light.

He stood there, unable to hear or see or think, forgetting how to blink or breathe, and then he smiled.

* * *

_A/N:_

_After I wrote the first sentence, I had envisioned a completely different piece with a kiss that was even less romantic and more...spontaneous. The problem with that kind of story though, at least for me, is that it falls under the umbrella of a not-really-a-kiss shot. I didn't want something prompted by pity but I always wanted to write something that was cute!_

_If it isn't obvious, it's the first time Téa has performed with her dance troupe in her hometown and Joey was the only one available opening night. The kiss they have here is one I can imagine happening realistically, but I will definitely be writing more 'intimate' shots because I need to venture out of my comfort zone with these two! XD;;_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	30. no return address,,,I Can't

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.73.** ([ I Can't ])

* * *

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"I really don't want to-" she started again, voice lowered to an uncomfortable whine and he hissed when her hand involuntarily struck his cheek as she stretched out.

"I'll help you up, come on," he whispered, dipping his mouth into the curve of her neck and gasping in shock when a hand grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him upright.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What the actual fuc-" He spun around but stopped to let his eyes widen and look over the girl standing before him. She was flushed and breathing hard, with sweat beads lining her collarbone and the red light of the room casting a glow over her round face with full pink lips. "Hey there. Couldn't be bothered to wait your turn sweetie?"

"Shut up," she bristled and pushed him aside. "Larie, can you get up? Clare?"

"Two for one?" he murmured and glanced over to his right, where a few other guys were staring at both girls, the assembly line of shot glasses momentarily forgotten. One caught his eye and winked.

"Hey babe, you can't just come in and steal away my chick."

"Yes I can," she shot back and after pulling her dark brown hair into a bun, took a limp arm, cast it about her shoulders and heaved the nearly unconscious girl up on her feet.

"You're not gonna get very far like that," he smirked and pinched her wrist with his nails, hard, and the girl released her friend's hand, cursing.

"Talk like that upstairs and you can leave with your wasted friend no problem," he drawled, the young men around him drawing closer, smiles eerie in the dim light.

The girl didn't bother responding and began to pull her dazed, slightly protesting friend up again when he stepped closer and slid his hands over her hips. She elbowed him between the ribs immediately and he staggered back, jaw clenched.

"Don't be a pussy man, just get her," someone called out and the guys erupted into raucous peals of laughter. The girl hadn't moved but something akin to regret flashed over her face.

"Get over here or I'm going to have to do it with you right there," he pointed at her, eyes narrowed.

She spat at him in reply and he leaped at her, the men whooping around him. His fingers had barely brushed over her arms when someone seized the back of his shirt and threw him onto the floor.

He fell, swearing loudly when his hands hit the floorboards. He looked up, chest heaving, surprised to see a tall blond boy staring down, his face twisted with contempt. Another boy with spiked brown hair was picking up the sleeping girl and a short kid was holding onto the brunette, face livid.

"What are you dicks here for?" A broad shouldered guy demanded, sidling over to block the door the shortest of the newcomers was eyeing.

"To get them out," the blond growled. "And you're gonna get away from that door, or I'll rip your balls off."

"Or you're gonna shut your face and leave them girls here," the man stood up, hands still throbbing.

"Afraid I can't do that," the blond challenged, voice quiet.

The man paused then took a breath and grinned, sensing the men around him move closer in. "Stick around and I'll show you how to use those girls, kid. Maybe you'll even get to show me what you've learned."

He had barely finished when a hand smashed into his face, full on the mouth and he fell again, this time onto his back.

"Joey no! Let's just leave, I called the police," the brunette reached over and pulled on the blond's jacket sleeve.

"In a minute, I promise. I gotta teach these guys what happens when they mess with you," the blond smiled, eyes gleaming as he put up his fists, ready to start.

* * *

_A/N:_

_How long has it been since I wrote for these two? XD; I don't know what I think about this piece, I put forth my idea, which evolved dramatically from the original start, well enough but I don't know if the emotion is strong...ah well, that will encourage me to write more! ;3 I would be lying if I said this wasn't inspired by university experience, but this is based off horror-stories my friends at less-safe schools have told me so I thankfully have never known this type of frat-behavior to happen in my area!_

_I know it isn't that shippy but Joey has always struck me as the kind of guy who would actually fight for Téa despite the situation being resolved. Yugi is too nice, and weak (sorry Yugi!), and Tristan is a lot more level-headed, but Joey has had lots more experience being around women that need to be protected like his mother and sister, and I figure he'd go kind of berserk in defending them!  
_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	31. condolences & consolations,,,All I Have

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.92.** ([ All That I Have ])

* * *

When she was younger, she would tell her mother she wanted to be an angel. Her mother would crouch and on her knees, gather her up and cradle her deep into her arms, whispering that she was a gift and she shouldn't wish for anymore because

"you'll see, you'll be the one who does the healing."

She didn't believe her and all through the years she'd stare at the window in the night and try to let her thoughts echo out and beyond, because somewhere was waiting, a somewhere that would assure her she wasn't worthless and in the end, she meant something to the crowds passing by, ignoring her as she cried, lost.

"don't be selfish, you'll see, you'll do the finding."

Angels had wings and were fashioned from light, pure and holy and guides for mortals that trembled in the dark and needed hope, however weak and fleeting. Her father shook his head and told her she shouldn't worry about what she was and what she couldn't be because

"you're too young to need to care for that many people, you focus on yourself."

When she grew older, she realized angels were beautiful because they were nothing but dreams, unspoken, that the earth released from thousands of trapped souls. They knew nothing but other, other hopes and other wants and their desires were not for themselves but people blind and hungry, passing by in crowds, ignoring others who were lost, because they couldn't see, because

"you're what I'm living through now, so don't be afraid."

She stood by the bed, staring down at a boy she didn't recognize anymore, a boy she vaguely remembered having been wired down and through with cables pumping fluids once before. Monitors clicked away by his head and a faint voice stirred in her mouth, wanting to warn the nurses that everything was so loud he might wake, didn't they know he always woke at 3 in the morning and he liked to sleep on his side and the pillow, didn't they know it was too high?

Angels loved to dance and they healed aching stomachs and laughed through phone-calls boys, now strangers, initiated once they realized hearts were meant for more than just beating. Angels enjoyed cloudy days and mindless musical arrangements and small things like notes of forgiveness and embraces that smelled like happiness.

She took a breath and turned away and left the room, and prayed she would live long enough to stay an angel because

"all that I have is faith and it never saves you."

"Miss, is this bank deposit yours?"

Angels were real. They just died too quickly for humans to notice them until it was too late.

"Yes."

"This is quite an impressive sum. Your friends told me what this money is for…are you sure you want to give this all away? "

She was an angel, not because she was perfect and a savior and a messenger that welcomed the dying and protected the living, but because she was a simple gift and

"I have nothing else to give him."

She didn't mind. She didn't care that she now knew - angels were everything but happy.

Angels chose love over being happy.

* * *

_A/N:_

_I hope it was clear that the money Téa donated was the fund she had been saving up for her dance career. I really like the idea of Téa, though ironically being one of the characters who never directly fights evil in the series, having to deal with a hero complex. None of the gang are particularly wealthy, least of all Joey, and after a severe life-threatening accident, I imagine it would be difficult to get enough money for hospital bills. __Téa is a very sacrificing character and only shows off her selfishness in trying to keep the people important to her close, and seeing as how there's no one able to donate the right amount of wealth, I could definitely see her giving up her dream without a second thought. I tried my best to make this as moving as possible but I'll rely on reader input to see if I succeeded. :)_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	32. no return address,,,Silence

love letters addressed to anonymous

**

* * *

.15.** ([ Silence ])

* * *

"Get it all out," Téa murmured, her hand moving in circles as she rubbed the girl's back soothingly, the echo of triumphant cheers and high-pitched squeals pounding past the closed bathroom door.

"I-I'm sor-so-sorry," the girl stuttered, drawing in deep breaths between each heave, each loud splash of alcohol hitting the toilet water. "I screwed up!"

"Of course you didn't! Stop saying that, it's fine," Téa squeezed the girl's shoulder, flinching when the girl tensed and vomited again.

"But he-he doesn't- I…I screwed up!"

There came a knock on the door and opening it, Téa blinked up at two girls, her flatmates, clutching sparkling glasses of pink drink, their glossed lips parted and plucked brows knitted.

"Téa what happened? You said you'd be back around midnight, it's so early and-"

"She had an 'accident,'" Téa waved her hand awkwardly, biting her lip when the girl on her left raised a slender, penciled black brow.

"Nina, you ok? You alright girl?"

The girl by Téa said nothing but retched once more and then resumed quietly sobbing.

"You know, I'd have expected this of Clare and not Nina," the girl on the left shrugged, and Téa laughed.

"I think she learned last month drinking was not for her…"

"Yeah, you're lucky your harem came there just in time." The girl winked and backed out of the doorway, heels clicking back to the living room where rum and loud dance music was infecting the air.

"Ame, for the last time! They are not-"

"Téa-a-aa," Nina cried, raising her head, clumsily wiping away her tears, her makeup smearing over flushed cheeks and pale hands. "What am I gonna tell him? What-what can I s-say?" Her words came out in a rush and Téa hurriedly motioned for her friend, eyeing the scene with distaste, to close the door. She waited for the doorjamb to slide into place before rubbing the girl's back, up and down, a steady and mindless repetition.

"It's not that bad, ok? It's not- no really, it's not," Téa raised her voice over the beginnings of a teary retort. "You'll call him in the morning and if you want, I'll go over to your place and me and Clare and Ame and Lily will all be there and you can talk to him. And he'll get it and understand and if-" Nina wailed and Téa wrapped a arm around her, "-if he doesn't then screw him! Everyone makes mistakes, everyone is different when they're drunk, you didn't mean it!"

"Boys don't think that way…" Nina's voice trailed off as she started to cough.

Téa sat back, pulling off her heels, feeling hot and sticky in her dress. Being the designated driver even when she didn't have a car didn't spare her any of the dramatic repercussions dark rooms, drunk girls and equally drunk guys produced. Her cell had slid under the sink and she groped for it, flinching whenever she felt a clump of lint and dust brush against her fingers. She pulled her arm back out, wiped her hand and phone with the rag by Nina's shoes and then stared at the black screen for a few seconds.

"If I get a guy to tell you he'd forgive you, would you get up? You need to drink some water Nina, you need to change, too…"

"He won't! He won't!"

"Ok ok, we don't know that," Téa frantically began rubbing her back again. "But boys can be nice ok, and not only ungrateful jerks and no matter what you did, it's forgivable. For God's sake, it was just a kiss-"

"Nooo," Nina shook her head and coughed again.

"Look here, here," Téa fumbled and dialed a number hastily, pushed the speaker icon, and waited. When the female voicemail alert voice started to speak, Téa swore under her breath and dialed again.

"Yugi's probably asleep but the other boys will be up!" Téa smiled at Nina, gazing blearily over her shoulder at the cell before letting her head fall back into the bowl. "Wow, enough ringing already…pick up God damn it!"

"Yo!"

Téa smiled and then froze.

"Yo? Téa, what's up?"

She sighed and hung her head, the headache that had sprouted as she and a guy friend supported a fretting and scatter-walking Nina back to the flat, now fully blossoming.

"Joey, where's Tristan?"

"He can't answer the phone right now!" His voice was loud and eager and distant background buzzing of laughter and a TV sports audience faded in.

"Joey this is serious, I'm going to be spending the whole night stuck in the bathroom-"

"Ew why the hell are you calling me from the bathroom?"

"Joey shut up and listen to me! My friend Nina-"

"I remember her, she was pretty," Joey remarked casually and Téa growled.

"Yes yes, and she got wasted and now she's throwing up-"

"So that's why you're in the bathroom!"

Téa bit back a laugh. She knew he was buzzed and not too blame for his silly, overexcited replies but she couldn't help but snort in annoyance.

"And she kind of made out with a guy, a friend, they were both drunk, she's got a boyfriend, and I want a nice guy, someone sweet and responsible," she drew out the last word, drenching it with significance, "to tell her it's gonna be alright."

"So you called me?"

"No I called Tristan."

"But the sentiment was the same."

"Yes-what? Wait-"

"Well give her the phone!"

"It's on speaker but wait, hey no, I want Tristan to talk-"

"Listen up Tina!"

"Nina!" Téa hissed, wondering why she had forgotten to turn the speaker mode off.

"Nina, sorry, listen here. You probably don't remember- actually no, you definitely would remember me, I was the one who-"

"Joey!"

"Alright now listen… Téa told me about your little mistake-"

Téa winced as Nina began crying loudly again. She had almost forgotten, attention being fixed on Joey's anticipated message, that she was with a girl, one whose arms circled the toilet seat, her head ducked inside.

"Now now, stop, it's ok," his voice began to falter and Téa cursed silently, realizing he wouldn't last long if he knew just how distressed the girl was. She then smiled in spite of herself, imagining his about-to-panic face as he heard Nina's whimpers and broken "sorrys."

"Joey," she groaned, snapping back to attention, "it's ok, where's Tristan or even Yugi-"

"No I got this." He took a loud breath. "Ok Nina look, you messed up but you didn't mean to. Any guy in their right mind would know that because hell, he's probably done it, too. Loads more times. Actually he's probably never told you because he's covering it up or he was too wasted. And so you got a hold over him!"

"Joey, that's not the point-"

"But the point is, you're a good girl! And a great girlfriend, I think, no wait I'm sure, that's the right thing to say. And I know your guy will respect you for talking to him and if he doesn't, he's a jack-ass who's covering up his own mistakes and you'll find someone better."

"Really?" Nina whispered after a small silence and Téa started. She had been paying close attention to Joey's voice again.

"Yup! Now go and drink some more and puke your guts out again!"

"Joey!" Téa snapped but Nina laughed, eyes crinkling as she smiled before leaning forward and hiccoughing up another small load of throw-up.

"There! Good enough for ya Téa?"

"Yeah," Téa grinned, knowing he couldn't possibly see her but feeling quite pleased as she stared at her cell screen.

"Still the designated driver then eh?"

"I'll always be."

"I'll work on that."

"Good luck Joey."

"Thanks," he seemed to grin as well through the crackling reception and Téa felt a small pang of homesickness hit her softly in a spot behind her left ribs, just over her heart.

"Don't drink too much."

"I won't."

"We should Skype tomorrow."

"Yeah, we should! Been some time!"

"'Kay then, have a good night."

"Stop being so formal."

"Love you."

"Whatever."

Téa giggled and ended the call.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Completely inspired by events that just recently transpired in my own apartment! ;D I haven't written anything for so long fanfiction-wise and this fic of mine was begging me for an update to the point where I couldn't resist. I have references to characters and situations from 'I Can't' but this shot takes a much more light-hearted approach to college life...and drinking, too. ;)_

_I'll be returning to the current story arc now though, got too many ideas to leave them in the attic!  
_

_Hope you enjoyed!_


End file.
